If God Will Send His Angels
by jelpy1
Summary: The Mock Courtmartial of General Alderson that ensnared Nick continues to reverberate; effecting both Nick as well as his relationship with Jarrod
1. Chapter 1

"Pappy?" 

"Yes, brother Nick?" The dark head never turned from its studious perusal of the book propped against a log.

"Where does rain come from?" 

Jarrod sighed, thinking that Nick had probably climbed up the forbidden tree to dangle by his knees in the forbidden position from what was no doubt a branch situated at a forbidden height. Hanging upside down always made Nick think about clouds and stars and things like that. Several years ago such a realization would have caused the older boy to scramble after his too slippery little brother in an effort spare Nick the impending fall. With age had come wisdom however, and at ten years old Jarrod no longer tried to protect his worrisome sibling from every last bruise and cut. Better to save his strength so he could go for help when Nicky met with the inevitable calamity. Jarrod prided himself on efficiency. 

"It comes from clouds, stupid." 

"Where do the clouds get the rain from?" 

"From the sky." 

"And where does the sky get the rain from?" 

"From Angels, everyone knows that." Tom Barkley often expressed amazement at Jarrod's ability to answer Nicky's seemingly endless questions, which had been known to drive even the saintly aging reverend of their church to utter distraction. Jarrod's method of sanity protection was simple: Give Nick an answer. It didn't have to be right, just fast and plausible enough that he couldn't easily argue with it. And since Nicky was always asking questions, Jarrod had developed the facility of reading, writing, studying and so on while keeping a small portion of his mind free to handle the interminable interrogation that came along with his brother's company. 

Years later, other trial lawyers marveled at Jarrod's knack for looking up precedents and listening to testimony without missing a word. His envious colleagues couldn't know that life with Nicholas Jonathan Barkley could equip one with a whole range of unusual survival skills. 

"Angels make rain?" Nick was fascinated. 

" ." 

"How?" The inevitable question came. Jarrod dragged his attention from his book. This was getting sufficiently complex to require his complete attention, and he shuffled through a multitude of possible answers, discarding most for lack of plausibility.

"They cry." Jarrod was pleased with himself, simple, quick and impossible to disprove: The perfect answer. 

Nick considered that for a moment with typical intensity. 

"Not true." 

"Yes it is." Jarrod was astonished at Nick's immediate rejection of the explanation. 

"Then how come they don't taste like tears?" the boy demanded. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Tears taste sorta salty, right? And they're like hot an' all, aren't they? Kinda burn?" 

"Well...uh...they do, I guess." 

"An' rain isn't like that; rain tastes kinda sweet, and it's cool and all. Right?" 

"Uh... All right, yeah. I guess it does.". 

"So, how can they be tears?" Nick demanded triumphantly. 

"Um..." The last thing Jarrod was prepared for was logic; at least from this particular source. "Because Angel tears taste different from human tears. " 

"Do not!" Nick was openly scornful. 

"Do too! When Angels cry their tears are sweet like honey. I don't know why!" Jarrod hastily forestalled the question he could see coming. "It's one of those God miracle things and we aren't supposed to know why. It's just because they're Angels." Jarrod sincerely hoped Nick was going to accept this explanation, although the chances that he would were diminished by the intensity with which Jarrod hoped for him to do so. It was part of a scientifically unproven but anecdotally evidenced theory Jarrod had about his brother. 

Had Jarrod approached it from a mathmatical perspective, it would have looked like this:

S + (N x Y) = (T x Z)

or

Silence + (Nick x Y) = (Trouble x Z) with Y being the amount of time Nick was quiet and Z being other variables such as whether or not it was raining, a Sunday or the middle of a very important meeting/party etc.

Jarrod had developed this formula along with several other highly unscientific theories regarding his younger brother IE: hoping Nick would be quiet increased the probability that he would start yelling, dressing him up in Sunday clothes guaranteed rain, and the worse the idea, the more likely he was to put it into action immediately.

As if to prove these theories Nick scowled, and there was a sympathetic rumble of thunder overhead. Jarrod glanced at the sky, suddenly aware of the dark clouds that had no doubt triggered the topic at hand. Better to get home before they were drenched and in trouble. 

"Come on, Nicky. Let's get home or we'll be late for dinner." 

Jarrod grabbed his books and paused long enough to make certain his ever-troublesome sibling had descended the tree with a minimum of bloodshed before heading back to the house. That, of course, was sufficient time for the sky to open up in a dedicated downpour, squelching Jarrod's hopes of getting home ahead of the storm...and disaster. 

"Nicky! Come on! If we get soaked I'm going to be in trouble! Hurry up!" 

"Angel tears!" 

Jarrod turned back to witness the horror of his younger brother rolling happily in an ever-growing puddle of muddy water. 

"Nicky!" 

"Angel tears!" 

To Jarrod's utter frustration Nick started running through the rain, discarding muddy clothing in every direction. Jarrod ran after the younger boy, struggling to bring his wild colt sibling under control. 

"Angel tears!"

With dread, Jarrod realized they were running straight towards the house with Nick having an overly generous head start and a total disregard for such niceties as clothing. Jarrod mentally tallied up the time and put on a burst of speed as he realized Mother would still be hosting the Weekly Social Luncheon at this hour. Nick plowed determinedly through the muddiest part of the lawn running straight for the open door leading into the parlor. 

Jarrod made a final, futile leap to tackle his brother and succeeded only in sliding in a muddy heap across the floor. In an effort to slow his slide, he grabbed at an overhanging rag that turned out to be the tablecloth crisply laid out beneath the luncheon buffet. He heard the clatter of breaking dishes and scattered silverware moments before the contents of the table landed painfully on top of him, and he managed a brief moment of thanks that Silas hadn't made that flaming dish thing for lunch. There was the barest flash of white buttocks as Nick wisely vanished up the stairs seconds before guests and hostess responded to the sounds of disaster in progress. 

"Jarrod Thomas Barkley!"

Gravy trickled down Jarrod's collar and his vision from his left eye had a curiously purple tint that could only mean grape jam was covering it. Mother was going to want an explanation. This meant telling the truth about his little brother hanging upside down from trees and running naked through the rain and explaining the angel tears answer (which, he guiltily suspected, might be considered vaguely sacrilegious, and hence a bad thing to do in the presence of the reverend's wife) as well confessing that he had not watched his brother carefully enough. The alternative was to lie and take all the blame on himself, which is where it was likely going to fall anyway, while Nicky got off scott free. Glumly Jarrod realized there was no correct answer. 

As for Nick, the only part of the day that made a lasting impression was the idea of an angel's tears falling crisp and sweet to the earth below.

Chapter 2 


	2. Chapter 2

JOURNAL ENTRY 1

I dunno how to do this. I've never tried keeping a diary before; that was the sort of brainy thing Jarrod always did. Doc Martin says keeping a journal can help me figure out what's going on in my head. Just write down my thoughts for 10 minutes a day, and if I don't know what to say, just spend ten minutes writing I don't know what to write down.

I don't know what to write down. I don't know what to write down. I don't know what to write down. I don't know what to write down. I don't know what to write down. I don't know this is so stupid, how am I supposed to figure out anything this way? I'm not Jarrod. I'm not the brainy one; I'm not the one who thinks in words.  
He told me that once, that he thinks in words. I think I'd asked him why he never seems to lose his temper or say things he's sorry for later, and he said he sees his thoughts in words. Literally, like reading a book, and because he can see it he doesn't have to say it. I visited him at his law school once and he took me to the library: a huge room filled with thick books written in tiny print. That's when I understood why he wanted to be a lawyer: it was the only job he could find that had enough words for the things he was thinking about.

I always think in pictures, and sounds and colors. That saying about how someone gets mad and 'sees red'; that's me. I really see red, like some angry spider clawed its way to my brain and bit me in the eyes with red tinted poison.  
Ideas are the same way; I see them. I can't get anyone in the family to agree to a new irrigation system for the valley because they want facts and figures and words and how it would work and I don't have any of those things. I can just SEE it. I can see how it should be laid out for the ranch, and how we would organize it around the orchards and how it could be spread throughout the valley. But I don't know how to tell them what I see, everything comes out in a rush and gets mixed up and no one can understand it. So Jarrod, Mother and Audra don't listen to me when I try to explain it to them because I've tried to explain it a half a dozen times now and I just can't and they're tired of talking about it.

Heath listens, but he doesn't SEE it. At least if Heath brings up the subject the family pays attention.; the problem is he's just doing it as a favor to me. Because he doesn't really care about it, the family doesn't care about it and it gets voted down every time; and all because I don't have the words.

Maybe that's the point of writing down my thoughts every day. Maybe Dr. Martin is trying to make me think in words like Jarrod. The strange thing is, Doc doesn't even like Jarrod very much, but I think he wants me to be more like him. Think in words like Jarrod. Write things down like Jarrod. Be more like Jarrod.

Funny how it always seems to come back to that.

BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBV

Branding calves was a filthy, exhausting job that Nick had always enjoyed, at least in Heath's opinion. The young man had decided soon after arriving at the ranch that Nick had fun with even the grungiest, most mind-numbing jobs by treating them as a contest.

The first time they had branded calves together, Heath had noted a slightly self-congratulatory smile on Nick's face after he roped and tossed a calf a shade faster than Heath. Curious, the young wrangler had put on a bit of speed with his next calf, finishing it a half second faster than Nick. Nick had responded by speeding up slightly with HIS next calf and so on. By the time the tenth calf was branded, the unspoken, impromptu contest was in full swing and both brothers were wearing grins.  
This never-discussed-always-in-progress game of one upmanship made even the dullest jobs entertaining and, Heath figured was one of the reasons Nick had never seemed to tire of the ranch work. At least, until now. At the moment, Nick looked anything but enthusiastic as he mechanically roped another calf. His movements to Heath's practiced eye looked stiff, tired and a bit graceless. Heath though was more concerned with Nick's attitude than his technique as Nick greeted the arrival of more calves with a hostile stare.

"God, Heath." Nick groaned as he swung into the saddle. "Just how many more of the damn things are there? We're never gonna to get finished."

"There's probably no more this year'n last year." Heath pointed out reasonably.

"Yeah? Well you couldn't prove it by me. I swear there-Oh Christ!" Heath followed Nick's disgusted glare as it fell on a blameless heifer trailed by two delicate calves. "As if we don't have enough to muck about with, she hadda go and have TWO of them."

He glowered at the oblivious bovines, as if the identical babyish youngsters had come into the world with the express intent of making his life difficult. Heath sighed. Last year, or even six months ago Nick would have cheered the sight of twins and probably decided to make the heifer a major part of a breeding program designed to create an entire herd of multiple birthing cattle.

"C'mon big brother, last batch for the day."

Grumbling, Nick shook out his rope and went grudgingly to work. For the rest of the afternoon Heath watched Nick closely as they roped and branded calves. His brother was distracted, ungraceful, unenthusiastic.

UnNick.

BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBBVBVBVBVBV

With the last bawling calf of the day branded, and the last straggler watered, the cowboys headed back for the mansion and Heath glanced at the lowering sun, calculating the time.

"About 45 minutes of daylight left." He hazarded to Nick with a sidelong glance.

Nick shrugged, with a total lack on interest. "So?"

Heath blinked. Daylight was a precious commodity to Nick, something that arrived far too slowly and left far too quickly. Anytime they were finished with a major job for the day and there was time left, Nick seized the chance to investigate the smaller corners of the ranch or visit favorite hiding places or, on occasion, just happily ride around and soak up the richness of the land. More than once, Nick and Heath ended up splashing about in a nearby swimming hole like two schoolboys playing hooky. This bore investigating.

"Nick?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you all right?"

Nick stared absently at the shaggy V between his horse's ears.

"What?"

"Are you all right?" Heath reached over and jostled Nick's arm. It would make Nick mad as hell, but Heath was willing to risk it.

Nick looked at Heath as if it was the first time all day he'd seen the cowboy.

"What? Oh, fine. Just thinking, is all."

Heath waited patiently for Nick to elaborate. Nothing. Heath scowled in frustration. Nick had occasionally complained that getting Heath to talk could be like pulling up all the tree stumps in a forest; it took a lot of time and effort and you had to start all over again every day. Heath had laughed at the comparison, but for the first time he understood how Nick felt.

"Kinda cloudin' up."

"Um-huh."

"Might even get some rain."

"Umm."

"Would sure cut down the dust."

"Yep."

"Ciego said that bay mare foaled a colt with three heads."

"Good."

Oh to hell with it.

Heath gave up trying to make conversation and just rode in irritated silence. A few more clouds drifted overhead; nothing threatening but plainly the valley was going to get a bit of rain. Heath threw another sideways glance at his brother, noting the tense shoulders, the distracted stare and the way Nick continually flicked his fingers, a nervous habit he had developed in the last few months.

What the hell was going on?

BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBV

Nick flexed his fingers as they spasmed again; the tightening muscles sending short, intense stabs of pain through his hand.

'Serves you right for punching out a mirror dummy. Jeez, what a stupid thing to do'

Actually, Nick didn't remember punching out the mirror, he was taking everyone's word for that. Plus he had the scars on his hands to prove it... that and the problems that occur when you slam your fists repeatedly into shards of glass. Miraculously, he had managed to avoid severing nerves, ligaments, blood vessels or any of the hundreds of intricately connected muscles that operated the so delicate but so necessary limbs. He had damaged some of them rather badly however, and he was still getting feeling and movement back in some of his fingers. This made even simple tasks challenging at times.

For one thing, Nick's days of the old fast draw were in the past. His index finger on his gun hand wasn't strong enough to pull a trigger quickly and smoothly; it spasmed and jerked when he tried to fire quickly. He could compensate using a rather awkward shooting hold and triggering with his middle finger but it slowed him down considerably. Roping was another task made more difficult, and of necessity he had made changes in his technique there as well.

Nick's efforts to compensate for the newly stubborn digits were made more difficult by his determination to work it out alone. He did not want the family hanging over his shoulder anxiously watching every move. Lately everything about the ranch had felt like an uncomfortably tight harness that he chafed against daily. Add to that Doc Martin's continued interest in how he felt about the whole Mayville incident-

_'Incident? Try massacre'_

And his insistence that Nick was still 'recovering', whatever the hell that meant, and the end result was one very recalcitrant and irritated goldfish in an extremely confining bowl.

Even these constant aggravations might not have been so bad was it not for the Doc's latest kick: insisting that Nick keep a journal in which he wrote his thoughts down every day. So far, Nick didn't much like where those thoughts were taking him. Not just what he had written last night but all the restless feelings clamoring to be put down in black and white ever since he had agreed to keep the damn book. He was vaguely awareness of dissatisfaction, an uneasy sense of shame and regret, an uncomfortable level of jealousy towards Jarrod and Heath that Nick insistently assured himself didn't really exist.

Worse than that was a feeling of self-contempt welling up. The only memory he had of the night he had injured his hands was of seeing his face in the mirror and feeling a sense of disgust toward the person looking back. At that moment he had seen a coward, a liar, a blowhard who had thrown his weight around in an effort to hide just how hollow and small he was. When he had started writing last night the feelings had returned in full force. Thomas Barkley started with nothing and built a fortune. Heath was one of the strongest people he knew. Mother had a will of iron that exceeded anyone in the valley. Jarrod was a brilliant attorney. Eugene would probably be a brilliant doctor. What did Nick Barkley do? He chased cows.

Nick was so busy nurturing his sense of self-loathing that he didn't even notice time passing until another nudge from Heath yanked his attention in another direction.

"Almost home."

"So what?" Nick demanded morosely.

"For starters, there's Jordan." Heath pointed to the little girl wobbling precariously across the lawn under the watchful eyes of her mother.

Instantly Nick grinned, kicking his horse into a canter and pulling it to a stop safely short of the toddler before bounding off his saddle. He shouted a cheerful greeting to Angela before picking up the baby and giving her a kiss on the cheek as Jordan giggled.

"How's the most beautiful baby girl in the whole world?"

"Hi." Jordan was talking exceptionally early, and Jarrod teased it was Nick's influence on her.

"How is she doing today, Angela? Did the new crib work?" Jordan had started making determined efforts to climb out of her crib, and Nick had built her a new one with higher bars that was considerably lower to the floor.

"Worked jes fine, Mister Nick. Thank ya for buildin' it."

"Nothing is too good for Jordan." Nick bounced the girl gently in his arms and she squealed with laughter. Angela smiled, perfectly content to entrust her child to Nick's arms, in marked contrast to the nervousness she showed when other members of the family handled the baby. Jarrod and Victoria, used to being trusted implicitly, were baffled and slightly hurt at Angela's puzzling preference for the more tempestuous Barkley.

Heath gathered up the reins to Nick's horse. When Nick was playing with Jordan, everything else came second, and Heath wanted to get the horses in before it started to rain. Angela glanced up as a slight breeze cooled the air and picked up the blanket she'd been sitting on.

"Shower comin', Mister Nick. Ah don' want Jordan catchin' cold."

"Want me to read you a story, Jordan?" The little girl nodded her head enthusiastically. "Let's go to the library, then."

They were almost at the door when the first drops fell. Jordan laughed in delight and held her hands up, catching the water on her fingers and showing the wet streaks in her palms to Nick.

"Rain."

Nick shook his head and brushed a wayward drop off her face.

"Angel tears." 


	3. Chapter 3

Journal Entry 2

I read what I wrote last night and it came out all wrong. It sounds like I'm jealous of Jarrod, but I'm not. Jarrod is a great brother, the best brother anyone could have. When I was a kid, he was around much more than Papa ever was. He's the one who taught me how to swim, and ride a horse. Jarrod was the first one to show me how to rope, and long before Father ever let me try my hand at shooting, Jarrod would take me out to the quietest place we could find and let me practice with his rifle. He taught me how to write my name. He showed me how to tie my shoes. He taught me right from wrong. You know that voice that everyone has in their head that tells you when you're being stupid, or wrong or behaving badly? The voice in my head sounds just like Jarrod.

I'm proud of him. He's smart, and successful and charming and so DAMN PERFECT! God, sometimes it's like having Jesus for a brother; by comparison you'll always look like the Anti-Christ.

Oh hell, I'm not being fair. That's just Jarrod, he's popular and brilliant and I'm...his little brother. I heard it from Mr Roland when I started school: "Oh, you're Jarrod Barkley's little brother." I heard it every time I met an adult: "Of course! You're Jarrod Barkley's little brother." I heard it the first time I went to San Francisco when a stranger walked up to me on the street and said "I saw your picture in Jarrod Barkley's office. You must be his little brother." I bet I could cross the continent, catch a slow boat to Africa, hike out to the deepest, darkest, most remote spot in the world, come across some tribe that no one has ever heard of before and one of the natives would ask: "Aren't you Jarrod Barkley's little brother?"

Sometimes I think if I hear that foul phrase from one more person, I'm going to gouge my ears off with a spoon.

***********************************  
"Hmm." Nick was teaching Doc Marten how to flip playing cards into a hat and the Doc was concentrating intently on his next card. It didn't change a thing, The card flew to the side of the hat and landed in the dust. "So you feel like you're always in Jarrod's shadow, is that it?"

"Loosen your wrist." Nick advised. "And no." He demonstrated the proper technique for the Doc again, then watched critically as another card missed completely. "Well, yeah. I mean, not when I'm out on the ranch and I'm working with the boys, or we're on a round up or a trail ride. But then someone will tell me I should try to be more like my brother, and it's like...I don't know...being back in school with the Mr Roland telling me I'm a disgrace to the family and Jarrod never gave him that kind of trouble." He flipped a card perfectly into the middle of the hat. "Then that night you came over for the first time, I remember looking into the mirror and I saw…" He trailed off.

"What?" Nick didn't notice that he had Doc Marten's full attention.

"I chase cows around in a circle." He burst out. "I can be a bully and a blowhard. I use my last name like a shield….like everyone is supposed to respect me just because my name is Barkley. I do things without thinking or planning and I get mad and blow up and say or do something stupid. I miscounted some wine barrels once and accused a gypsy of stealing it and broke his ribs. I remember Jarrod looking at me like I was something he stepped in, you know? I ….think I embarrass my family sometimes. I think my teacher Mr Roland was right. I think I'm kinda Dumb. " Miserably Nick flipped another card at the hat and missed by a mile.

Doc Marten thought for a few minutes. "Alright. Sounds like a hard man to live with. Did you see any good traits?"

Nick eyeballed him. 'Not at the time, I didn't. No."

Doc nodded. "Alright, we're going to try an exercise here. I want you to describe what Nicholas Jonathon Barkley does, in the third person."

Nick was baffled. "What do you mean?"

"I mean describe Nicholas Jonathon Barkley's work on the ranch as if he's just someone you know."

"Well, he's a hothead and-"

"Stop. Rule number 1...you can't use anything you already used. Rule 2: I want to hear about your ranch work. What does Nick do on the ranch?"

"Well…" Nick paused for a moment. "He's the ranch foreman."

Doc shook his head. "I don't know what that means. What does the ranch foreman do?"

Nick thought about it for a moment. "He hires and fires wranglers and other such. He orders supplies, he oversees repairs on buildings, fences and stuff. He runs the horse and cattle breeding program. He keeps the ranch books, handles the taxes and government payments, pays the hands, arranges payment for equipment and supplies. He figures out how much hay and feed the ranch needs and orders it in advance. He organizes the ranch work, roundups and cattle drives to get the herd to market. He deals with the buyers in San Francisco to get the best prices. He oversees the orchards, planting, care and the picking season as well shipping and sales of the harvest. He handles the winery, arranges the wine sale and reviews the books there. He reviews the books, purchases and sales for the timber and the mines. He….." Nick's voice trailed off.

"What?" Doc Marten stared intently at him.

"Maybe..Maybe Nick Barkleys not as dumb as I thought."

Doc smiled. "Let's talk about that."

bvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvb

Evenings were Victoria's favorite time of day for a specific reason: her family was together. They might not always be doing the same activity but they were in the same room, giving her a chance to run a sort of "check up" as it were to see jpw the family was functioning. Lately, she had the feeling the family wasn't functioning well. Right now for example, Jarrod and Audra were in the drawing room and Nick was quite obviously not, playing with Jordan and giving reading lessons to Angela. Victoria wasn't certain it was an attempt to keep a distance between himself and Jarrod, but she couldn't help but wonder.

She became aware that Heath was beside her, watching the little group outside. Nick had seated Jordan on his shoulders and was carefully pointing out the constellations in the sky, to Jordan's obvious delight. He said something that made Jordan clap in delight and Nick laughed out loud, looking happy and relaxed for only the second time that day.

Heath shook his head in wonder.

"What?" Victoria asked.

"I keep seeing it, but I don't believe it."

"Nick and Jordan?"

Heath nodded. "He really loves her."

Heath had never really thought of Nick as having much of a soft spot for kids, and his brother's utter devotion to the little girl was, if touching, somewhat unexpected.

Victoria smiled. "You wouldn't be so surprised if you'd seen him with Audra when she was a baby."

"Attached?"

"Lord, Yes." Victoria laughed. "Jarrod was a very quiet child. Even when he was a baby he never really started crying without putting a lot of thought into it first. Nick, of course, spoke his mind. Eugene was similar to Jarrod, and Audra…. She was in a category of her own. She was extremely sensitive to food, and clothing and light and noise…. Anything being even slightly off would send her into a fuss."

Heath grinned; some things never changed.

"Until Audra, I was a very self-confident mother. Audra though, was Nick's baby more than mine was. Tom and I would be up past midnight, utterly exhausted from having done everything we could to get her to stop crying and fall asleep and Nick would come in only half awake and mumble that I was doing it wrong. He'd pick up Audra and hold her like a sack of potatoes…and she'd stop crying in seconds. By the time he hauled her upstairs to his bedroom she'd be happily asleep and stay that way for the rest of the night. I was always torn between feeling grateful and hurt."

"So, Nick was her hero?"

"From the start. As soon as she could walk she'd follow Nick everywhere. When I'd pick her up to keep her from following him into the yard she burst into tears. She made no effort to hide the fact that she preferred Nick's company to mine. Nick loved having her around; he would take her everywhere he could and do anything she wanted. When Audra was 4 Tom found Nick teaching her how to brand calves and he finally put some limits on their excursions."

Heath wished he'd been there. "I'd bet good money they acted like two puppies on a leash for the first time."

"Oh, it was dreadful." Victoria confirmed. "The Pouting, the tantrums…and Audra was even worse."

Heath shoulders shook with laughter. "I'da paid good money to see that."

Nick opened the garden door for Angela as she came in carrying Jordan.

"Did the reading lessons go well?" Victoria asked gently.

Angela nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. "Mr Nick's a good teacher."

"Jordan learned a new word tonight!" Nick said proudly. "Go ahead, Jordan."

The little girl pulled herself straight up in her Mother's grasp and her eyes sparkled.

"DOTH!"

"Isn't that great?" Nick beamed.

"DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH! DOTH!"

"Time's ta sleep." Angela murmured. "Needs to put her ta bed."

Nick nodded. "Night, Angela. Night, Jordan."

'DOTH!"

"Great word to teach her Nick," Heath observed as the little girl was carried out of the room. "Likely come in real handy next time she runs into John the Baptist."

"You're just jealous because Jordan doesn't like your stories."

"Well, next time I'll just work the word 'forsooth' into the tale and that'll probably fix it right up."

Nick tossed a cue stick at Heath. "How about a game of pool?"

"I guess I can make the time to win your money." Heath smiled as he deftly caught the stick.

Jarrod rose from the desk. "Mind if I join you two gentlemen?"

There was the barest flicker of pauses before Heath said "Always room for one more. You break."

Victoria sat quietly, her sewing forgotten. Jarrod may have missed that second of hesitation, that disconcerting under current of tension, but she hadn't and she watched the game closely. Nick had lost his relaxed air the moment Jarrod joined the game. Heath had become quiet and watchful, catching everything despite his deceptively relaxed stance. Jarrod was concentrating so intently on the game that he was oblivious to Nick's discomfort.

"You know I was thinking, 5 ball in the corner pocket, about that cattle auction in Frisco that you and Heath can't get to."

Nick and Heath exchanged a glance.

"It's not that we can't get to it, Jarrod." Heath corrected mildly. "We just don't want to go."

"I don't know why-seven ball in the side pocket."

"Because there's nothing there we want to buy." Nick answered. "We already looked at the catalogue, Jarrod."

"I looked at it too, and I think you're making a mistake. Nine ball in the upper pocket. I thought I could go for you; maybe pick up some livestock."

"We don't want any of the livestock there. Most of 'em are Brahmens and we don't want any Brahmen bulls on the ranch. You're not going to make that shot." Nick added helpfully.

"Yes I will." Jarrod glanced curiously at his brother. "Oh, come on Nick. You aren't clinging to all those unreasonable objections to brahmens still, are you?" The ball settled neatly in the pocket. "Told you I'd make it."

"It's not an unreasonable objection, Jarrod. The damn things are mean. Heath, you tell him."

"The damn things are mean, Jarrod." Heath dutifully offered.

Jarrod snorted. "Nothing you two can't handle. I don't know what you're so afraid of."

"Bleedin' mostly. I've seen those things in action, Jarrod and they're out and out vicious. I don't want to try to herd around something that's going to skewer my guts for fun."

"Skewered guts," Heath intoned solemnly "Are bad."

"Eleven ball in the back pocket. Isn't that a little exaggerated?"

"No," Nick wondered if Jarrod was even listening to him. "I was on a ranch once where they had a brahmen. It kicked apart a stall door just so it could gore some poor horse."

"A gored horse." Heath echoed.

"Would you stop that?" Nick aimed a half-hearted cuff at his brother as Heath started to laugh.

"Jarrod, Nick and me already talked about it, and we decided not to go."

"You're making a mistake." Jarrod said bluntly.

Nick looked tired of the conversation. "Don't you have to get up early to catch a train tomorrow, Jarrod?"

Jarrod studied his brother for a moment, then lowered the cue stick. "Yes, I suppose I do." He placed the cue back in the rack and remembered something.

"Oh, Nick, you're going to have a new ranch hand tomorrow."

Nick's eyed him suspiciously. "I didn't hire a new hand."

"No, I did." Jarrod explained. "His name's Ira McArthur."

"Isn't he your robbery client?"

"I am his attorney, yes."

"We don't need a new hand." Nick's stated flatly.

Victoria stirred uneasily, scenting an argument - and a nasty one at that- in the making.

"Oh, come on Nick, we can usually use an extra man or two." Jarrod soothed.

"Not right now, we can't. There's no work for him."

Jarrod's smile hardened slightly. "Then make work for him."

"Why?"

Jarrod sighed; his stubborn brother wasn't going to make this easy.

"Because he was released on his own recognizance as long as he maintains regular employment. He needed a job; we gave him one."

"No, we didn't give him one." Nick's voice was brittle with anger. "You gave him one."

"For God's sake, Nick. Try to have an open mind. Just because you're not the one who hired him-"

"It's got nothing to do with the fact that I didn't hire him!"

"Then WHAT is your objection? If you have a rational one," sarcasm was leaking into Jarrod's voice, "I'd like to hear it."

"My objection." Nick managed to ladle even more sarcasm on the words than Jarrod did, "Is you're going to go trotting off to San Francisco tomorrow and I'll be stuck keeping an eye on him for you. This is the fourth time in two years you've dumped one of your convicts on me and I'm tired of it!"

"Nick, I don't think it's asking too much-"

"Of course, you don't think it's asking too much because you never have to put up with them, I do! I'm the one who has to juggle everything to work in someone who's probably never done and honest days labor in his life. You don't understand-"

"No, Nick! YOU'RE the one who doesn't understand! I am trying to help someone turn their life around, and you're upset because you'll may have to change out the person who's counting cows for a day or two! You're so angry about being inconvenienced that you won't even give the man a chance!"

"If you're so eager to give him a chance why don't you put him to work in your God damn office?" Nick was openly shouting.

"Nick! Jarrod! Stop, both of you!" The two men fell silent, wearing identically stubborn expressions. "Jarrod, you should have at least checked with Nick before you hired the man. Nick, Jarrod is right, it won't hurt to give him a chance."

"We. Don't. Need. Him." Nick's jaw was clenched so tightly that Victoria expected to hear the cracking of teeth.

She took a deep breath. She rarely interfered in running the ranch, but if Nick wouldn't give in on this then she would exercise her prerogative to do so.

"Make room for him anyway."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Is that an order?"

Victoria closed her eyes; Nick was going to force the issue.

"Yes."

Hazel eyes crackled with utter fury for a moment, then subsided into bitter resentment.

"Yes Ma'am, Mrs. Barkley. Is there anything else or may I leave to do my chores now, please?"

Heath flinched.

"Nicholas!" Victoria experienced a flare of anger she rarely felt towards her children. She was appalled at herself and furious at her son all at the same instant.

Nick tossed his cue stick on the pool table. "If there's any more orders you want carried out Jarrod, just put them in writing."

He stalked out of the room and a moment later the front door opened and shut again.

Jarrod shook his head in frustration. "Heath, will you talk to Nick? Make him understand-"

"Jarrod, you got your way." Heath replied tiredly. "What else do you want?"

Jarrod stared after Heath in mild surprise as his brother left the room.

Victoria sat down again, feeling exhausted. "That was ugly." She picked at the embroidery she had been working on.

"I'm sorry, Mother." Jarrod sat on the chair next to her. "I don't know what brought that on. Would you like me to keep you company?"

"No, you have to catch the early train. You go on up to bed. I'm just going to sit here and think for a while."

She felt her son kiss her forehead and heard him walk up the stairs as she absentmindedly studied the embroidery, noticing a frayed edge she hadn't seen before.

"I think it's coming unraveled."


	4. Chapter 4

_JOURNAL ENTRY_

_He did it again. He did it again! I can't believe that Son of a - Jarrod may mean well, but HE IS DRIVING ME INSANE! Another destitute client that he will 'personally supervise, your honor, to insure he stays out of trouble and hard at work." A more accurate description would be "I'll drop him off at the ranch so he can be Nick's problem while I return to San Francisco for a while."_

_And just like that it happens. Jarrod brings me someone who probably doesn't even know the meaning of honest work and doesn't want to learn. Mean ole' Nick, that surly bully of a foreman, tries to point out the problems and gets shouted down for being cruel and unforgiving. Of course ,everyone praises Jarrod for being so kind; so willing to give a man a second chance. And who actually has to spend time and energy making sure this latest treasure doesn't burn down the barn, rustle cattle, or get someone killed through sloppy work? Me. And Heath._

_I swear Jarrod believes this place runs itself. He has no idea of what it takes to run a ranch. Every time he drops one of his clients in my lap, I gain a useless worker and lose a useful one because someone has to keep an eye on the new guy instead of doing his job. I end up shorthanded and jobs don't get done. And if I hire someone else to take up the slack then Jarrod will wander back home long enough to observe that we really have more people on the payroll than we should and couldn't I just be a little more efficient? One of these days he'll trot out that argument and I'll strangle him. Slowly._

_In all fairness, not all of the guys he brings here are worthless. Some do fine once they get the hang of it and get in a routine. Do I ever get credit for that? No. Keno worked out well enough after I crammed him down everyones throat. There was Lenny; I liked him well enough. I spent hours teaching him how to rope, and throw cattle, how to ride a cutting horse, how to keep records-and THAT was fun because I had to teach him how to read first. Give the kid credit…he spent hours learning these things. He put in the time and effort too, and I was delighted when he started borrowing books out of the library._

_Then I walk in after spending four days and nights shoring up the levee and Jarrod was back. The moment he saw me he started riding me about how Lenny had "taught himself" to read and write and wasn't I just a little ashamed of myself for not being kinder to the boy? I was so mad I had to stomp outta there before I hit him. Naturally everybody just figured I was being a bad sport._

_Jarrod thinks everything runs on honey. He likes being the good guy, and I can reckon that. But he doesn't know what it's like to run a ranch with 40 something employees all of whom, at one time or another, think they can do a better job than you can._

_It would be nice to be the one-man crusade to redeem the damned. But I can't do that and run the cattle, and the vineyard and the orchards and balance the books and keep the ranch in repair and do long range planning for the breeding stock and and and and… I have to kick backsides and fire people who don't do their job._

_Maybe I am a bully; maybe I should be more patient and understanding. But, sometimes I think that Jarrod, as much as he enjoys being the nice guy, might find it harder to be the voice of kindness if his horse was shoeless, his saddle was dirty, the barn roof was leaking and the cattle were falling dead in the fields while the foreman coddles the ranch hands and serves them breakfast in bed._

"I wanted to kill him."

"You refrained?" Doc asked.

"It took a considerable effort."

"You see? And you thought you had no self control"

Despite his still simmering irritation. Nick smiled, then grimaced as his hand spasmed painfully. He pulled a glove off and started massaging it.

"Hand bothering you, huh?" Doc observed.

'It does that when I get mad." Nick explained.

"Have you been doing any exercises to try to solve it?"

"I spend about a half an hour before bed practicing roping and shooting."

Doc thought about it for a moment. "Maybe you're being to specialized…repetitious. You need to try other activities that require fine motor control with your hands and practice that."

"Like what"

"Well, do you have any hobbies you've always wanted to take up?"

Nick started to say no, then paused. "I used to want to take up fly fishing. I can fish but I never learned fly fishing."

"An excellent hobby; I learned from my father."

" Yeah, My father knew how to fly fish, too. He taught Jarrod. I was always too impatient at the time."

"Maybe Jarrod could teach you. You could have brother time together."

"Naw." Nick scuffed his boot tips into the ground, watching little puffs of dust rise up. "If I ask him to teach me now, sooner or later he's gonna say 'I told ya so' or bring up his latest hire or something something something, ya know?"

"You're certain about that?"

"Absolutely! He just- You don't know what Jarrod can be like. Everyone is always talking about how reasonable he is, and how soft spoken and logical he is and nobody realizes just how hard headed he can like that time he defended that Jeffers boy. He wouldn't listen to reason; he wouldn't take advice. He just dug his heels in and wouldn't budge! He can be so stubborn!"

Nick narrowed his eyes at the physician, who seemed to be scratching his chin vigorously.

"You're thinking that the mule is complaining about the donkey's long ears, aren't you?" Nick demanded.

"Um..Yep." Doc grinned.

"All right. All right so we're both stubborn, usually at the same time. That doesn't change the fact that he WILL say 'I told you so,' When he does I'm either gonna get mad and hit him and everyone will be mad at me. Or I'll be so busy trying NOT to hit him that I won't be able to pay attention to the fishing lesson and I won't learn anything. And I'll STILL be mad at him. What's so funny?" Much to Nick's annoyance, Doc Martin had started laughing.

" You are. No wonder you're going to have a lousy time. You have the whole day planned out, right to when you're going to lose your temper."

Nick just glared at him. Doc Martin had an annoying habit of being right.

"Look, do you really want to learn fly fishing?"

Nick shoved his irritation aside and considered the question.

"Yes."

Doc smiled. "Times awasting."

"Light. Light. Light movements…just barely touching the water, and you have to drop it in the exact same place each time."

Nick cast the line again and winced at the loud splash. "Sorry." He mumbled.

"Try slowing down." Doc Martin suggested. "You're casting too fast and with too much force. Slow down, work on your accuracy. In fly fishing speed doesn't matter."

Nick nodded and changed his pace, concentrating on dropping the fly in the exact same spot.

"Better." Doc nodded approvingly, and cast his own line with breathtaking ease.

Flick…drop. Flick…drop. Nick waited for impatience to throw his developing rhythm off, but surprisingly that never happened. There was something soothing, comforting about the careful beat and the delicate touch fly fishing required and Nick found himself relaxing as his mind drifted lazily along._ Maybe this was why the Doc was always so peacefu_l, and remembered something he had been wanting to ask.

"You don't like Jarrod much, do you?" Had he not been so relaxed, he would have been surprised at how casually he awaited the answer.

"Nope." The Doc dropped the fly neatly into the water. "Does that bother you?"

Nick thought a moment.

"Nope." He decided. "It probably should."

"Why?"

"Well…Love me, love my brother, I guess. Up until now, every friend I had likes Jarrod; admires him anyway. I mean, that's how it is with brothers, isn't it?"

"Really?" The Doc seemed interested. "So, all of Jarrod's friends are people who like you, right?"

"Right." Nick's mind flitted over some of his brother's friends, uncomfortably remembering an introduction Jarrod had made at a party in San Francisco. Jarrod's friend, a well dressed, chilly man had nodded politely at the introduction as Jarrod walked away.

_"So, Nicholas. Jarrod tells me you're responsible for the ranch?"_

_Nick nodded._

_"So, I suppose you spend you days outsmarting cows, correct?" _

Nick still remembered the stinging snickers that followed.

The fishing line faltered and he concentrated on regaining the rhythm.

One…two…three…four…

That was better; the remembered humiliation faded away and he relaxed into task before him.

"No, not all of them. Most of them are polite; or at least they won't insult me in front of Jarrod. "

"Huh." Doc pulled the line out of the water and started changing out the fly. "Did you ever tell Jarrod when his friends insult you?"

"No." That was another thing to learn from the Doc, how to tie all those different flies. "Why should I? I mean, they're his friends, it's not like he needs my permission to…Oh, I see whatcha mean."

Doc resumed casting and Nick decided to try casting a little farther. He overshot the spot just a little and corrected his aim.

"Why don't you like Jarrod? None of my business, of course, but.."

Doc considered his answer carefully. He was very much like Jarrod in that respect.

"I don't like righteous men."

"What?" That had to be the damndest answer Nick had ever heard. "You mean you don't like him because he's honest?"

"No, by righteous I mean.." Doc trailed off for a moment "How can I put this? Your brother has many virtues. He's honest. He's compassionate. He's smart. But he works very hard at being righteous. He decides on a course action that he feels is just, or that he feels will uncover the truth, and then he pursues it without always considering if it's fair to inflict HIS goals on the people around him. His actions can result in very real pain for the people around him, but he is so focused on the righteousness of his cause that he decides the price is worth it, even if that price is being paid by someone else."

"I'm not sure I understand." He wasn't being honest, Nick had thought the same thing more than once, but was astonished at hearing someone else say it.

"The Mayville court martial business. Jarrod was so convinced he was doing the right thing he decided that your mother, your sister, you, Heath…everyone at the ranch would take part in it. He decided this without consulting any members of the family, and then was genuinely surprised that people were hurt and angry. Didn't you tell me he volunteered Heath for some investigation at a prison that almost got Heath killed?"

"Yep." Nick scowled. He still got angry at that one.

"That's what I mean. Because his intentions are good, he assumes that all of his actions are too and that it's alright to drag everyone around him in as well. It's a careless way to treat the people he loves. That's the main thing. " The Doc gazed at Nick with a blank expression. "I suppose you could list a few minor irritants."

"Well, of course." Nick said. "He's my brother. We've been irritating each other for years." He cast moodily for a few minutes before bursting out. "I think he thinks I'm dumb."

"We discussed that already, though. Is Nick Barkley dumb?"

"No," Nick admitted. "He does dumb things sometimes."

"Who doesn't?" Doc retorted. "I'm guessing if you thought about it you might be able to come up with a few instances of Jarrod doing something dumb."

"This whole 'hire a convict' thing is pretty dumb. I don't think he has any idea of just how hard it is to fit in a new hand who doesn't want to fit in. What's worse he doesn't believe me when I tell him…he thinks I'm exaggerating."

"So, what should Nick do?"

Nick paused. It was somehow easier to think clearly when he stepped back and considered 'Nick Barkley' as a separate person. It somehow put a buffer of sorts between whatever he was angry about and himself, let him clear his head and think without getting all tied up in knots.

"Find a way to show Jarrod instead of just telling Jarrod." He decided.

"How's your hand feel?"

Nick flexed them briefly, surprised when they didn't cramp painfully.

"Better."

"Good." Doc Martin reeled in his line. "You keep practicing for another 15 minutes or so. Tomorrow I'll bring in a metronome to help you with the rhythm."

And with that he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

_Journal Entry_

_One of the things I'm supposed to do with this journal is note what I'm feeling. That is simple-God, I'm bored. I''m bored with the ranch, with making money, with dealing with the voting block, the orchards the on and on and on and on! I feel like I've been doing the exact same thing my whole life. In fact, I HAVE done the exact same thing my whole life come to think of it. Only time I did anything different was when I was in the army and even then I spent half my time chasing strays. Boys in this case, not cattle but still strays._

_One thing I did like about being in the army is that no one really knew much about me. I mean, they might know my parents were ranchers or that I was from California, but other than that there weren't a whole lot of people eyeballing me because I was Tom Barkley's son or Jarrod Barkley's brother and 'let's see if he falls on his butt kind of thing. 'Cause God knows if I screwed up in Stockton someone was always ready to run to Mother or Father with the information. Sometimes the news of whatever I'd done would get home before I did and then I'd likely catch hell._

_No wonder bugs under a microscope burn to a crisp._

_Bvbvbvbvbvbvbv_

Victoria was worried about Nick. Not in a "Does he have a fever?" kind of way or "He's been far too quiet for too long" kind of way. She was concerned about Nick because he seemed, well, UnNickish if you will. Everything that needed to get done on the ranch and other holdings got done, nothing was out of repair, or missing or otherwise ignored, it was just that Nick seemed to sleepwalk through his day, doing things automatically and completely without enthusiasm. It was the last that truly bothered her because Nick, no matter what else was going on, had boundless enthusiasm for the ranch and yet over the last few months it had completely drained away.

Just how apathetic he had become was drilled into her when she noticed a letter from Bank Loan Agent Bertram Nutters sitting on the study desk, politely asking Nick for a summary of operating expenses incurred paid for the last fiscal year sitting next to a draft of a response from Nick that said only. "It's the same as last year. Stop bothering me." Which is NOT how you want to address your banker unless you were attempting to solicit an audit.

The last time Nick had encountered Bertram Nutters you would have thought the man was his best friend. That memory had always maintained a piercing quality in her mind because of just how thoroughly Nick had demolished the poor man's dedication to his job.

The Barkley's had an opportunity to double their timber holdings but to do it they needed capital now. They could raise it if on their own but it would take around a month to do so and they needed it within half that time, so they were, in a rare move, taking out a loan. Normally it wouldn't be an issue but this was after the whole 'River Monarch' affair and the bank was double checking their investment. So, the bank sent loan officer Bertram Nutters to check the operations, run the books and insure it was a safe loan. He arrived unannounced at the ranch declaring he was there to perform a top to bottom audit of how the ranch operated. Any other rancher in the valley would have been apprehensive. Nick was delighted. This was a chance to show HIS ranch off to someone new, someone who had no idea how ranches worked and would be completely open to the way Nick was running things.

And, since this was Nick, that means Nutters-or Bert as Nick called him-needed to take part in everything: cleaning stalls, roping cattle, branding calves, fixing fences etc. Nutters found himself awakened every morning before dawn and, after an exhausting day of physical activity he just wasn't used to given his rotund appearance, reviewing the books until around midnight every night. The result would have been predictable to anyone but Nick.

Victoria had been distracted by other concerns and didn't actually notice Nutters's precipitous decline until a week had gone by and she arrived at the dinner table to find the man almost collapsed over his plate, hair askew, hands shaking and with a noticeable tic of his left eye which increased when the door was yanked open and Nick leaped into the middle of the room with one bound. His family was so used to his entrances that they wouldn't have paid any attention to it were it not for a whimper from the cringing banker.

"BERT!" Nick bounced over to the balding fellow, bellowing as if he'd just spotted a long lost friend. "There you are! I've been looking all over for you. Where ya' been hidin?" Nick was happily oblivious to just how close to the truth he was.

"..um..."

Victoria felt a pang of pity for the fellow. He hadn't been here a week and Nick had already battered him into speechlessness.

"I have GREAT NEWS!" Nick ramrodded over Bert Nutters's feeble attempts at speech. "Remember asking me about roundups and if we really needed that many men?"

"Um, yes?" Nutters sounded apprehensive.

"You're gonna get a chance to find out for yourself! We're going to have a roundup! Isn't that great?"

Nutters was horrified. "But..but you said there wasn't going to be one!" He sounded close to tears.

"I decided we need to give the east section a rest. We're moving the entire herd to the west section of the ranch. It should take about two days, you're gonna love it!"

Nutters was staring at Nick with the fearful fascination one would devote to observing the demented.

Victoria understood completely. Nick loved the ranch, absolutely loved it and nothing made him as happy as having a chance to show it to people. Problem was, Nick got so wrapped up in his own enthusiasm that he assumed that every else felt the same way. She didn't doubt for a second that Nick sincerely believed Nutters was having a grand time and the man's bouts of stuttering were the result of overwhelming joy. It was times that like this that Victoria was irresistibly reminded of an over sized puppy ecstatically bounding around a room oblivious to the fact that he was leaving muddy footprints on everyone and knocking antiques off tables with a single sweep of a wagging tail.

One of the wranglers appeared at the dining room door.

"Boss? Looks like that mare's going to foal."

"I'll be right out!" Nick bellowed back. "Bert, ya wanna come see?"

Nutters shook his head frantically, clinging to the table with white knuckled intensity as if he feared Nick was going to seize him by the leg and drag him behind. Victoria decided to rescue the man.

"Actually, Nick he hasn't had a chance to eat. Maybe he can be out a little bit later?"

"Oh." Nick looked disappointed, then brightened up after a moment. "Maybe I can come get you when it's a little further along. If this is your first live birthing, you're in for a treat!"

Nutters turned a distinct shade of green and swallowed audibly as Nick bounded out of the room with even more energy than he'd shown coming in. The amazing thing, Victoria thought, was that it had already been a 14 hour day.

Nutters waited until the front door slammed and wheeled on Victoria with a desperate look in his eyes.

"You have to help me." He begged. "Can't you see what that madman is doing to me?"

Victoria wondered if there was a diplomatic way of pointing out that the "madman" in question was her son, then decided not to bother. "Mr Nutters, try to understand that Nick wants to show you every part of the family operations-"

"Operations? You mean there's more?" Nutters looked absolutely horrified.

"Well, there's the cattle ranching, the apple orchid, the peach orchid, the orange orchids, the mining holdings, the foresting camps, the..."

"He'll kill me!" The auditor wailed.

"Well," Victoria bit her tongue on her first response of "Not on purpose."

Nutters turned to Jarrod with a look of utter desperation. "Can't you summarize the finances?

"You mean the holdings, the manpower, the expenses, everything for the last five years?"

"Just summarize it...write up a brief outlining everything. I'll approve it."

Jarrod thought about it for a moment. "I can write it up with Nick and have it ready in a day or two. You can take it with you."

"Mail it." Nutters slid a business card across the table. "Do you have a back entrance I can leave through?" He dropped his voice to a whisper, like an escaping prisoner trying not to be overheard. "I don't want him to see me."

Victoria wondered what he thought would happen if Nick saw him depart. Did he expect Nick to chase him down, rope him and hogtie him while cackling 'Not until the round up Bert! Not until the round up!'

"If you want to go through the kitchen I can have your carriage brought around."

Nutters leaped to his feet and bolted towards the kitchen, almost colliding with Silas.

"What about your suitcase?" Victoria called.

"Forget it Lady, I can't wait!" The banker disappeared through the doorway with impressive speed, given how tired he had been a few minutes before.

Victoria had sighed, realizing that one problem, the bank agent, had been solved only to be replaced by another:

Nick would be very disappointed when he discovered his good friend Bert had left without a goodbye.

The difference between the Nick of a few years ago and the unenthusiastic, distracted son of the last few months distressed her greatly and she didn't have the faintest idea what was wrong.


	6. Chapter 6

**"And she spake unto him according to these words," Nick moved his finger under each word as he slowly read them aloud while Angela followed along, frowning as she deciphered the words. She was taking her nightly reading lessons very seriously and looked forward to the day when she would be able to read to her daughter, who was also listening in rapt interest. "...and that which he did, the LORD made to prosper**."

Nick closed the bible, carefully marking the place to pick it up again the next night. **  
**  
"Nick, where's the ranch account book?" Jarrod asked as he strode briskly into the room.  
Nick and Heath exchanged glances.

"Same place they always are, bottom drawer." Nick answered. "Why?"

"I just thought I'd get a little more familiar with them. Then if you or Heath need assistance, I can lend a hand." 

"Help yourself." Nick stood up abruptly. "Angela, you and Jordan want to go for a walk with me? I have something I want to show you." 

Heath sighed and put the cue he had been chalking back on the rack. So much for his game.

***********

"Right in here." Nick led the way into the barn and turned up the lanterns. 

"Where we goin', Mr Nick?" Angela stepped cautiously into the barn, uncertain of the unfamiliar surroundings. 

"This stall right here." He led them over to the far stall. "What do you think?"  
Inside was a smallish Palomino, gentle of eye with a a flashy blaze down her face. 

"Oh, she beautiful, Mr Nick. Ah neva seen her befo." 

"That's 'cause she just arrived today. She's perfectly saddle broke, has the loveliest gait you'll ever find, and a nature sweeter than honey. Her name's Easy." 

"Ms Audra gonna love her." Jordan stretched out her hands to pat the mare's forehead and

Angela envied her daughter's fearlessness. 

"Oh Audra's not going to be riding her. You are." 

Angela froze. 

Nick frowned in puzzlement. "You don't like her?" 

"Ah can't be riden' her." 

"Sure you can," Nick was slightly exasperated. "That's why I got her." 

Angela shook her head. "Mr Nick, Ah don't be knowin' how ta ride." 

"I know." Nick explained. "That's why she's the perfect horse to learn on." 

"Ah can't. Ah doesn't know nothin' 'bout horses." 

"Then I'll teach ya." She looked at him uncertainly and he gave her his most encouraging smile. "Comere." She hesitated. "Come on, come on, come on, come on." He brought her back to the mare, who regarded them both with a friendly eye. 

"Now, the first lesson, is that the best way to make friends with a horse, is to feed it. Take these carrots," he handed her several stubs he pulled from a nearby bucket, "And feed them to her." 

Angela studied the large equine mouth apprehensively.

"Won' she bite?" 

"If she did it would be by accident, and that won't happen because you're going to hold them in your palm. Stretch your hand out," She copied his demonstration. "Lay the carrots in the palm of your hand and offer it to her." 

Angela cautiously did so and was delighted at the plush nose that snuffled over the carrots, tickling her fingers. 

"So soft." She marveled. 

"See the way she's lipping your palm? She likes you, and" Nick handed over several extra carrots. "She wants more." 

The whiskers tickled her palm again and she giggled and reached out to stroke the golden cheekbones. 

"Now the next thing to learn about horses, " Nick continued, "Is how to take care of them."  
He opened the stall door and led the mare over to a grooming area. "Why don't you sit Jordan over here on this bale. Now take this brush right here and start right up here, near her head. You're going to go in the direction of the coat, just as if you were brushing your hair." 

Angela gently ran the brush over the fur and Nick shook his head. 

"More force, you're not going to hurt her. This is a very soft brush and she'll enjoy it more if you push harder. When you groom her, you're getting rid of dust and loose hair and everything that makes her itchy."

She applied the brush with more vigor and the horse leaned happily into the bristles. Nick took another curry brush and concentrated on the other side of the mare, watching out of the corner of his eye as Angela gained more confidence with every stroke. 

"See? I knew she'd be perfect for you. I thought, when Jordan gets old enough, we'll find some gentle old pony to start her out on. When she outgrows that, you can either give Easy to Jordan and we'll get you a new horse, or we'll buy Jordan a horse just like her-what?" Angela had stopped brushing the mare. 

"Ah knows how thin's change. Ya may not wanna keep this horse that long." 

"Angela, it's not my decision about whether or she's still here, it's yours. She's your horse."

Angela gave him a blank look. "I'm giving her to you." Nick explained gently. 

Angela shook her head, distressed. "Mr Nick, she a valuable an'mal, Ah can't take her." 

Nick was baffled. "Sure you can." 

She lowered the brush. "No, no wouldn' be right. Mr Nick, ya done a lot fo us. Ya been teaching me ta read. Done made Jordan toys an' a crib. We can' be jes takin' thing from ya. It not right." 

"Angela-" Nick kicked himself for not realizing beforehand that the gift might alarm her. 

"No, Mr Barkley, it jes not right." 

"Angela."

She was stopped by the guilt on his face. Nick searched for the words to explain.

"That night in Mayfield; it was my responsibility to protect the citizens of that town; ALL the citizens. And whether you want to blame the mud, or my ignorance of the town streets, or crazy Bobby Bats-or just me- the bottom line is I didn't...I didn't do my job. Not by your mother, not by your brothers. Your whole family died that night. And teaching you to read, or building Jordan some toys, or buying you a horse...is the only thing I can do for your family anymore. It's not enough. But right now, it's the only thing in my life I'm sure of." He dropped his gaze to the brush in his hand. "It's the only thing in my life I enjoy."

The barn was silent except for the stamping of the horses and the sounds of Jordan playing on the hay bale. Then Angela started grooming Easy again with firm, gentle strokes. 

"It take fo'ever ta teach me ta ride. Ah be a slow learner." 

Nick met her eyes and smiled. "Nah. If you learn to ride as fast as you learn to read, you'll breaking stock in no time. Now," he put down the brush "You finish grooming that side and Jordan?" The little girl looked up at the sound of her name. "You go muck out the stall." 

For the first time since she arrived on the ranch, Angela laughed


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter

Heath hated weeding. He had hated it as a boy, working in his mother's garden and he hated it now. When he had first envisioned life as a Barkley, weeding a garden hadn't entered into the picture. However, he had not yet met Nick Barkley and was unaware that Nick firmly felt that foreman should not assign tasks to ranch hands they weren't ready to do themselves. 

And since Nick also felt every hand should be able to do every job on the ranch-within reason-that meant every hand took a turn working in the garden, which meant Nick took a turn working in the garden and by extension, meant Heath took a turn working in the garden. Heath sometimes wondered how he'd gone from one of the poorest families in the valley to one of the richest families in the valley and he was still pulling weeds.

To add to this, the Barkley's ate some of the strangest food he'd ever seen. The first time Audra's prized asparagus dish was presented, it took enormous self-control for him to scoop what looked like a neat row of dead grass snakes on his plate. Mother's favorite, Brussel Sprouts, were another vegetable he had never seen before, and when the serving bowl was handed to him, he had stared blankly at what resembled nothing so much as the decapitated heads of luckless garden gnomes.

Jarrod's favorite, cauliflower, at least didn't remind him in appearance of anything he wouldn't normally eat; he just flat out didn't like it. However, a lifetime of being grateful for any food that was offered insured that he would doggedly swallow whatever was placed in front of him as long as it was edible, and the family remained blessedly unaware that at many an evening meal Heath would stoically chew away at what was offered while internally, he crossly wondered why the Barkley's couldn't just eat greens like everyone else.

However, the Barkley's did not just eat greens, hence the family garden, hence the need to have it weeded, fertilized and watered and hence the need for every hand on the ranch to know how to care for the plants. And care they did because the vegetables seemed to require more pampering than roses. Particularly Jarrod's beloved cauliflower, which required an exact shade of light, and a precise temperature, and specific amount of water and daily examination for and removal of cabbage worms and and and and and.

Cauliflower required more cossetting and tender loving care than a colicky foal, in Heath's opinion. He wasn't the only either; every hand on the ranch despised the cauliflower patch and the absurd level of work it required. In the time it took to care for the cauliflower patch, Mother's brussell sprouts, Audra's asparagus, Silas' tomatoes, potatoes, carrots and squash and Nick's green beans and black eyed peas could all be watered, weeded, fertilized and even harvested for the day.

Lately a new burden had been added to gardening: a pond full of lovely, limpid fish that made graceful swirls through the water and died if you so much as looked at them funny. They were to serve as training to learn how to 'farm fish' courtesy of an idea of Jarrod's he had introduced at a family business meeting. 

Heath had known something up the moment Jarrod walked into the room, not only because of the small tray of food he was carrying, but because he had faintly manic glint in his eye. Heath recognized that look immediately because it was the same one Nick got whenever he had a new idea he was wildly enthusiastic about; and no matter how much the two would deny it, they quite alike in the way they became passionately enthusiastic about a project and talked about it with a sort of burning intensity. Jarrod just hid it better than Nick; he buried it under facts and figures, but the intensity was still there. 

(Heath had wondered at first why he hadn't inherited that particular Barkley trait until Mother stood up one evening and started talking about an idea to import and breed angora rabbits and he had been startled to see that same look in her eyes. That's when he realized it was a trait inherited from Victoria, not Thomas Barkley and felt a mixture of faint relief and mild disappointment. )

Jarrod's idea had been a hard sell from the start. 

"Ladies," He said, passing around the tray that had a number of small, fragile little crackers loaded with round, gelatinous clumps of what Heath glumly labeled as "more Barkley food. "Oh, Brothers of mine! Meet the next product from the Barkley family!"

"What is it?" Nick demanded suspiciously. 

"It's cavier!" Audra said with delight, while Heath cautiously loaded the cracker on his tongue. 

"What's cavier?" Nick asked Jarrod. 

"Fish eggs." 

Only years of self-control kept Heath from spewing the hors d'oeuvre across the room. 

"Well try it!" Jarrod urged. 

"No." 

"It's great!" 

"No." 

"Caviar is a delicacy!" 

"They're fish eggs and they belong in a fish." 

"Caviar has been eaten in European courts for hundreds of years as a delicacy." 

"Then I have some prime real estate in the desert to sell to European courts because that's not a delicacy it's a bunch of fish eggs and fish eggs belong in a fish." 

Heath listened to the argument growing increasingly queasy. He felt like the fish eggs had hatched in his stomach and were flip flopping around in the throes of death. 

"…don't care about the Europeans. If we're going to sell fish eggs as food, why not empty out the whole fish and sell the guts as food too!" 

Heath couldn't take anymore. He bolted from the room, found a quiet bush outside and emptied his caviar, his dinner and anything else he'd eaten during the day, all the while quietly apologizing to his Mama for wasting food. 

He came back to find the argument in still full swing, with Nick standing immovably in one spot, arms crossed and jaw set as Jarrod hurled his favorite adjectives. 

"….Most stubborn, hard-headed, closed minded-" 

Heath could feel a headache coming on and he flopped into a chair across from Mother who, he noticed was shading her brow wearily as if she was nurturing the same headache he was.

The argument had continued for another fifteen minutes before a compromise of sorts was grudgingly worked out: a pond would be dug and they would try "farming" fish on a small scale for a year or so to see if such a thing was even feasible. 

The pond had been greeted by the hands with a distinct lack of enthusiasm, who saw little point in digging ponds and feeding fish that weren't ever going to be big enough to eat.

Heath ponded these things while he morosely loaded up on the tools needed for his round of gardening duty. And since he was co-foreman as it were, he needed to do so with outward enthusiasm even though he was inwardly wishing there was a way out of it. Because it was one thing to garden, weed and care for sensible vegetables, it was entirely another thing to spend so much time over vegetables that he couldn't help privately thinking of as girly pretend vegetables.

His contemplation of the day's upcoming misery was interrupted when Jarrod's new hire showed up as promised, albeit a day late. McColl had him by the collar at arm's length and the reek of stale beer as well as the bloodshot eyes, explained the delay. Heath was unimpressed.

Nick too, judging by his expression and Heath gave a preparatory wince, expecting Nick to rip Jarrod's hire up one side and down the other. To Heath's astonishment, Nick simply told Heath to join the wranglers, he'd be along in an hour or so and then took the man-also at an arm's length-around the side of the barn instead of throwing him on a horse like Heath expected.

When Nick joined up at the herd an hour or so later, he was conspicuously alone, and immediately got to work on the herd. It wasn't until lunch rolled around that Heath got a chance to ask where the new hand was. 

"Special assignment." Nick said shortly. 

"Special assignment? What do you mean 'special assignment'?" Heath asked. 

"Just that," Nick said unhelpfully. 

"You're not going to train him to be a wrangler?" 

Nick snorted. "Like we have time for that. Nope, he's going to work in the garden mostly" 

"Just the garden?" This was new. No one worked only the garden. 

"Not the whole garden," Nick said. "Just Jarrod's plants." 

Heath munched thoughtfully on his bread for a minute, 

"That might take up a lot of his time, but not all of it. Won't he have any other chores?" 

"Yep." Nick said. "He's responsible for Jarrod's horse and tack and the fish pond as well." 

Heath stared at Nick. "So he's only going to work on Jarrod's…" He groped for a description. 

"Projects." Nick supplied helpfully. "Right." 

"Who's going to be following up on him?" 

"Ciego will double check on Jingo every day. Other than that-" Nick shrugged indifferently. 

"Nick, what are you up to?" Heath asked bluntly. 

'Look, I told Jarrod we didn't have time to babysit his new hire, and I'm not having the rest of this ranch dragged down by some lay about. If this guy is as wonderful as Jarrod says, then his projects will go swimmingly. If he's what I suspect he is, the only one that will have to chase after him to get the work done and done properly is the one who demanded we hired him."

Heath was torn. Part of him understood and was dazzled by this decision of Nicks. Jarrod never believed that his hires were a problem because Nick made certain they weren't, something that could take excessive effort and time on Heath and Nicks part. And Heath was as tired as Nick was of Jarrod's habit of dropping a client in their lap with a blithe expectation that they would rehabilitate the man.

Have this man work solely on Jarrod's things, Jarrod's plants, Jarrod's equipment-then if this was a bad decision, Jarrod was going to have to acknowledge it and take care of it himself. It was brilliant.

On the other hand, Nick was essentially washing his hands of part of the ranch. This was wildly unlike him and it wasn't a decision that the Nick of six months ago would have made. Heath wondered if it was a sign of Nick's decreasing interest in the ranch. It was no longer Nick's sole obsession and Heath wasn't sure that was good


	8. Chapter 8

_Doc asked me what my clearest memory of the war was. That's easy. It was the first time I ever lay with a woman. This woulda been a huge surprise to the boys my age in Stockton I was always telling about my conquests. I lied thru my teeth, of course. _

_Fact is my experience was limited to a few quick fumblings and an occasional sloppy kiss. See all the boys my age figured that with Tom Barkley being my Da, I'd be able to go after any girl I wanted. Actually, it was the opposite: With Tom Barkley as my father I was dead certain that ANYTHING I did with a girl would get back to him in record time and I'd end up catching hell for it. Worse yet, word mighta got to Mother and I 'd just end up dying from embarrassment. _

_I don't meant they spied on me or nothing, they just always seemed to know where I'd been, what I'd been doing, who I'd been doing it with and whether or not I should have been doing it in the first place. _

_Plus I figgered girls 'd be thinking I had experience and I'd be some great lover. Me, I was still trying to figure out how everything worked. I mean, I'd been there when we were breeding cattle, but moving that from four legs to two legs was a lot harder than anybody'd think. The honest to God truth was I was scared to death I'd end up being laughed at and everyone in the valley would learn about it. _

_So when I enlisted in the army and they shipped me all the way across the country, I figured I was gonna have the time of my life. I'd be away from my family; away from Stockton, away from the noisy neighbors.. Turns out I was only having the time of my life if polishing boots and making bunk beds was my idea of paradise. Then somehow I ended up in officer training-I always guessed Papa pulled strings to make that happen-which meant even more time in training, with any spare time being spent on Other Duties As Assigned, which sure as hell didn't involve sleeping with girls. Our commanding officers didn't want anything distracting us from the important business of learning how to die on command. _

_So there I was months away from my parents, hundreds of miles from friends, enemies, relatives, neighbors, and gossips, and I still couldn't get laid. Lordy, I was pathetic_

_So me and my buddies finally got orders to ship out and we got a 12 hour pass (dead man's pass they called it, since most of the rookie officers would get thrown into combat and killed.). Ben Colsky started talking up bout this place he knows where a fella can go to have a good time. Everybody thought that was a great idea 'til we got there, then no one wanted to be the first to go inside. You'da thought the place was full of rattlesnakes the way we avoided the door._

_We just stood there on the porch. Everybody had this sick, nervous look on his face. All these guys who told all these stories about all their women, standing there like scared rabbits. And I realized it wasn't just me; _

_we were ALL pathetic liars. And... This is gonna sound funny ...as soon as I knew that, I felt better. For the first time in my life, no one was expecting me to be just like my old man or as good as Jarrod or great because I was a Barkley. So I ponied up my $2 and stepped inside. The prostitute...later they started calling them Hooker's girls because General Joe seemed to like having 'em around his camp...was named Sadie and she was all business in a friendly kinda way._

_She was an old hand at this, and she reminded me of my drill sergeant in how she ordered me around. Nowadays I supposed I'd get mad, but then I was just relieved that ONE of us knew what to do. So, I got my trousers off, left the shirt on since she said to, climbed on the bed and followed her directions to the letter. Funny, I can't recall ten things from all those weeks at boot camp. I remember every single thing about her. The incredible softness of her skin, how she took my hand and placed it on her breast, a scent like incredibly exotic peaches; and how I couldn't tell where her body ended and mine began._

_I'm embarrassed to admit it was the most incredible 52 seconds I'd ever experienced._

_Next thing I knew, I was back in my trousers and strutting out of the door, feeling like I could handle anything, face anyone! I was an officer in the United States Army and a grown man; free as a bird, answerable to no one._

_So you can imagine my horror when I walked out of the whorehouse and bumped into Tildy Jackson, Stockton's biggest gossip, who just happened to be in town visiting her nephew._

Doc Martin laughed so hard he almost fell over.

"Right into her?"

"Nearly knocked her to the ground." Nick confessed, red faced at the memory.

"I wish I'd been there." Martin was convulsed with mirth. "So what'd you tell her, that you were there on military business? Or that you were trying to talk the ladies into going to church?

"Who says I told her anything?" Nick was indignant. "I wasn't just some kid she knew anymore. I was a fighting man in the Union Calvary. What I did was my business. I didn't have to explain myself to some nosy old biddy from Stockton!"

Doc Martin stopped laughing and nodded. "You're right." He apologized. "I shouldn't have jumped to the conclusion you'd act like a little boy caught in the cookie jar. I'm sorry."

"Well." Nick accepted the apology semi-gracefully and the two walked in silence for a minute before Dr. Martin nudged him.

"Told her you were there to visit a sick friend, didn't you?"

Nick smiled. "It was the only thing I could come up with."

This time the Doc really did fall down.

BVBVBVBV

It was the sound of two people hiccupping with uncontrollable mirth that caught Jarrod's attention as he walked from the barn. One voice he recognized as Nick's. The other he realized with a scowl, was Dr. Martin. The good doctor was sitting on the ground laughing at something Nick had said, while his brother tried to pull the physician to his feet. Nick's efforts were seriously hampered by the fact that he was laughing almost as hard as the Doc was and looked to lose his footing at any moment.

Jarrod felt a surge of unfamiliar emotion: Jealousy. How long was it since he had shared a moment like that with his younger brother? He watched resentfully as the usurper was pulled to his feet by the still laughing cowboy and the two staggered off, supporting each other like drunks.

He was not used to this sense of brooding unhappiness. It was a vague, unsubstantial thing as if he was trying to grasp smoke. Jarrod remembered feeling the same when Heath joined the family. After some initial clashing of personalities, it became obvious that Nick was fiercely devoted to his new brother. Jarrod, seeing that and realizing Heath had more in common with Nick had a first felt a bristling jealously that he rigorously squashed. It was only after several months that he realized that Nick had simply expended his circle to include Heath and that did not mean excluding Jarrod.

This was something altogether different. His relationship with Nick had taken several nasty jolts in the last year, with the kangaroo court being the most recent and severe. While Jarrod had assumed that everything had been smoothed over and forgotten, he was suddenly jarringly aware that it wasn't. Things were peaceful but he no longer was someone Nick felt safe to confide in. Doc Marten had seemingly slid into that role leaving Jarrod on the outside looking in Jarrod didn't like that. In fact, on more than one occasion he found himself swallowing a urge to kick the good Doctor off the ranch with a furious "He's MY brother."

He was guiltily aware this was driven partly by ego. Growing up it had been Jarrod that Nick followed around around, and Jarrod that Nick came to with problems and pestered with every possible embarrassing question about girls. Nick had wanted to wear the same clothes that Jarrod wore and do whatever Jarrod did. Even Cocoa was chosen because the colt had resembled Jarrod's ride at the time.

Nick pulled away somewhat once he began attending school, but even as an adult Jarrod was the one person Nick would generally turn to for advice. Nick might not always agree with him, might even noisily argue with him, but he did seek Jarrod's opinion and consider it. But in the last few years there had been changes, small changes but noticeable none the less.

He and Nick had clashed repeatedly over the ranch operations. On more than once Nick had proposed something that Jarrod was either only vaguely familiar with or completely uninformed about and didn't want to commit to until he had more information. Always he guiltily promised himself that he would look into Nick's proposal deeper, but by the time he got back from San Francisco, it had generally slipped his mind as he focused on his law practice.

A major blow to their relationship, though he had not recognized it as such at the time, had been inflicted by bringing Julia Saxon home. He had been livid at Nicks rudeness, only to have a mutual friend later point out that, considering how many men Nick had lost due to Saxon's spying, his reaction was entirely understandable. Nick had cleared Julia Saxon after Jarrod had been assaulted, but in retrospect, Jarrod realized that Nick had quietly started to pull away from that point on. He also belatedly realized he had never apologized to Nick, or even acknowledged that, while rude, Nick had a right to his feelings about the woman.

He should have recognized the size of the fracture when Nick did not come to him after being bitten by a rabid wolf; instead it was Heath Nick had turned to and trusted, not Jarrod. He had felt a bit hurt that Nick hadn't confided in him, but at least Heath was a member of the family. Doc Marten couldn't even claim that relationship, but it was the Doc that Nick appeared to spend the most time with.

"You look like you're thinking of turning the dogs on him." Victoria's voice interrupted.

"Which one?" Jarrod groused.

"Jarrod!"

"I'm sorry Mother." Jarrod apologized. "I just don't like the way that Doctor has dug his claws into Nick. He should have stopped coming here months ago."

Victoria looked at the two men thoughtfully.

"Nick seems to feel he's getting something out of the Doctor's visits."

"What exactly? Doctor Marten isn't a member of the family. What can he do for Nick that the family can't?"

"We'd have to ask Nick that." Victoria pointed out.

"I don't trust Marten." Jarrod said flatly. "I think he's using Nick to get a foothold in the valley. We don't even know much about him, only that Heath met him before."

"Jarrod, I have a feeling if you tried to run Dr Marten off, Nick would object strongly. And if Nick feels he's getting something out of these visits, I don't see the harm."

Jarrod scowled. "Maybe. I've contacted some detectives to check up on the good Doctor. If he's just some parasite-"

"Then we'll talk to Nick about it." Victoria said firmly. "But right now, I don't think it would be in Nick's best interests to interfere."

Jarrod took a calming breath.

"Understood lovely lady. Understood."


	9. Chapter 9

_Journal Entry_

_I don't know how old I was when I realized Jarrod was smarter than I was. Forever, I guess. It's not like it's hard to figure out, particularly the 100th time you've heard your father introduce your older brother as 'The Smart One." I got resigned to it. I mean, there's not a lot I could do about it...I couldn't just drink a magic potion and suddenly get extra brain power. I was about 12 though when I realized Jarrod wasn't just smart, he was wise, which is a whole different thing. Smart is just picking up the abc's quickly. But wise is more of a bunch of things: smart + good + just = wise and that was Jarrod._

_Problem with me is not just that I'm not as smart as Jarrod, I'm not wise. Not naturally anyway. I get mad too fast and do stuff without thinking too often which is kind of the opposite of wise. Sometimes I get just a little bit of wisdom, the kind that comes when you've done something wrong and a light goes off in your head and you realize "Oh, maybe what i've always thought isn't right" that kind of wisdom. Not like Jarrod, not naturally wise._

_Maybe that's why Mother takes Jarrod's side in so many things; she trusts him because he's wise. But here's the thing: Being smart and being wise isn't the same thing as being knowledgeable. And when it comes to the ranch I'm knowledgeable and so is Heath; we know this ranch and everything about it inside out. I'm just not sure how to explain that to Mother and Jarrod, that I may not be smart but I am knowledgeable. Even if I could I wonder if it would make a difference._

_BVBVBVBV_

Nick loathed quarterly meetings, just loathed them. They required he spend a large listening to a recitation of facts and figures he already knew and regurgitating facts and figures he already knew. They took place in the study that always ended up becoming far too hot far too fast as far as he was concerned, although he was the only one who seemed bothered, which made him wonder if he just naturally ran a higher temperature than everyone else.

And lastly, they aggravated him because of the voting block. No, make that the Voting Block with capital letters because it was literally a collection of votes that blocked his every effort to make changes, especially lately. It wasn't large but the participants were telling in Nick's opinion. Jarrod was one member of course, Mother was the second and Audra was the third.

Audra was the one Nick blamed the least. She knew perfectly well that she was not versed on all the ins and outs of the ranch (although he suspected she could be if she tried) so she threw her vote in with her oldest brother and her Mother, probably feeling that they were the wisest of the group. Except they weren't really; not when it came to the ranch.

Mother had good, solid instincts when it came to the ranch but she had pulled a significant distance from the it after Father died. If asked, Victoria would in fact claim she had nothing to do with the ranch but that wasn't true. Nick might make most decisions about the ranch but whenever Nick and Jarrod clashed about something, Victoria would seemingly forget this inconvenient little fact and start issuing orders to settle the issue. Problem was she inevitably sided with Jarrod, proving what Nick had long suspected: Mother trusted Jarrod more than she did Nick.

Never mind that Nick and Heath spent literally all their time on the ranch and Jarrod's involvement was peripheral at best. Victoria always, always sided with Jarrod. And Jarrod didn't know the ranch; not like he thought he knew it. Thus, anytime Nick wanted to try something sufficiently new or different that had no established success rate, he went up against the Voting Block and usually got voted down.

It hadn't been as bad when Jarrod didn't spend so much time on the ranch, although the Voting Block had still existed before; but it had become notably worse now that he was around so much. Thus, Nick spent a good portion of quarterly meetings stewing silently as one of his ideas after another was discussed, dissected and dismissed by the three people who had the least amount of information.

To make it more aggravating, Heath's ideas were greeted with a solemn respect and enthusiasm and frequently got at least a qualified "yes." Nick didn't begrudge Heath this support, he understood that everyone was making an effort to encourage him, given how the newest Barkley was still sometimes maligned and mistreated by the occasional narrow-minded jerk. Still it burned to have the same idea voted down three meetings in a row while knowing that if Heath had suggested the exact same thing it would have had a decent chance at acceptance.

Much to his relief, however, this meeting was finally winding down and he looked forward to escaping for the day, when Jarrod said

"Just one last thing."

Nick looked at him narrowly, suspecting there was a reason why Jarrod left it for last.

"I've been looking at that catalogue for the cattle sale near Sacramento. I know you boys don't have the time to attend, so I think I should go there and pick up a breeding bull."

Nick narrowed his eyes. "The only cattle they're selling are brahmas."

"I know you and Heath aren't sold on them but i think we should give it a try."

Heath sighed. "Jarrod, we aren't 'sold' on them because they're vicious."

"I've been asking around and every breeder I've talked to says they improve the herd none of them say the bulls are mean."

"Of course, that's what they say, Jarrod, do you think they would admit it if they were?" Nick exploded. "It's not exactly a selling point."

"They can't all be lying." Jarrod snapped.

"To sell live stock? Oh yes they can. It's a stupid idea." Nick was monumentally tired of all this. He didn't tell Jarrod how to practice law and he was sick of Jarrod telling him how to run a ranch.

"Nick there is no need to be rude." Victoria cut in sharply. "Jarrod and I have discussed this and we think this is a good step for the ranch to take. Let's put this to a vote-"

"A Vote!" Nick threw up his hands. "Of Course. Let me guess: You, Jarrod and Audra vote yes! While the people who actually will have to deal with the beast don't actually get a say."

Disgusted, he stood up to leave.

"Fine Nick, is that how you're going to handle this? By storming out because you're mad that you didn't get your way?" Jarrod was almost as angry as Nick.

"Do you know what Jarrod? There are so many things about this that make me mad, I don't think I can sort them all out. So, go ahead. Go to the show and buy your precious bull. And when it kills someone, you can shoot the damn thing."

Nick left the room and the front door slammed, leaving a stunned silence behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Nick was doing what Heath always referred to as his 'Magic Math Trick" a term that Nick could never decide whether to be amused or annoyed at, partially because he personally found it somewhat disconcerting. It worked something like this: He knew how big the storage barn was, he knew how big the bales of hay were and he knew how much the average horse needed. He considered all of these things carefully, usually while just staring intently into the barn, and from that could determine whether or not they needed more hay.

If you had asked him _how _he did it, Nick couldn't answer because he didn't know. Just like he didn't know how he could be riding to Stockton and see a leaf flutter to the ground and think: 'we're going to have a dry spell coming up, better plan for a drought' and just as mysteriously, in the middle of a dry spell, realize the ranch didn't need to by any more expensive feed because the drought was going to end soon and there would be new grass growth available.

It was a gift Heath couldn't help but feel envious of. In this he did himself a disservice, because if Nick had a sort of rancher sixth sense, Heath had just as remarkable knack at mining to the point where, except for reviewing the books to make certain he knew the finances, Nick left the mining branch to Heath. If Heath said a seemingly stable mining tunnel needed reinforcing then it needed reinforcing. If Heath said maybe we should keep working a mine that appeared to be ready to close, they would invariably find a new seam that justified keeping it open. If Heath said a mine was tapped out, well Nick took his word for it. It was a gift that Nick envied, resulting-as is always the case in such things-that each wanted what the other had and counted their own gifts as lacking. Had Jarrod been there he would have laughed. However, Jarrod was not there, having returned to San Francisco by way of a cattle auction to pick up a bull, and therefore was deprived of his amusement.

Meanwhile, Heath and Nick were seated on a bale of hay, cross checking notes on the inventory to make certain there were no particularly egregious errors, when they were distracted by a squeaking noise familiar to anyone with a barn. The noise could be traced to two rats crawling on a two by four and Nick scowled, picked up a bucket and hurled it in their direction, knocking both rodents onto the ground, where they lay stunned for a moment before one scurried off leaving the other one frozen in fear. Nick instantly hurried over, seemingly determined to eliminate at least one pest, then abruptly froze as he peered down. A look of surprise crossed his face and he picked up a length of board not to kill the rats, as Heath assumed, but simply to block their path.

"Heath, come look at this."

Heath sighed, being more interested to completing the inventory to studying rats, but obligingly walked over and looked disinterestedly at the source of Nick's fascination.

"Alright Big Brother, they're rats. So what?"

"No, they're not just any rats; look at this one." He pointed down and Heath took a second glance. The one Nick was pointing at had milky eyes; it was plainly blind and had a piece of hay in its mouth. The other one, just as plainly, was not blind, and oddly enough was clutching the other end of the hay.

"So, this one's blind and that one's not. What's the big deal?" Heath asked, a trifle impatiently.

"Watch this." Nick moved the board and the seeing rat started moving, holding onto the hay, leading the blind one behind it. Just as quickly Nick put the board down in front of the first rat and it stopped, as did the blind rat.

"Interesting." Heath allowed, "But what-?"

"He came back."

"Who came back?"

"The seeing rat. He escaped and was safe, but he came back for the other one to try to lead it to safety."

"So, he's a paragon amongst rats, so what?" Heath had the sinking feeling they were about to head down one of Nick's rabbit holes. He had been dragged into them before and like any other rabbit hole, they were long winding places with no end in sight.

"I'm keeping them." Nick announced.

"You're WHAT?"

"Help me build a cage. doesn't have to be large for right now, just large enough to get them into the house."

'Oh My God_,' _Heath groaned inwardly. Nick had that manic gleam in his eyes and when Nick got that gleam he was like a horse that had the bit in his teeth and was going to go where he was going to go.

"Don't you mean 'just small enough to sneak them into the house so Mother, Jarrod and Audra don't have a fit?'" Heath demanded.

"Don't be silly Heath. You know Jarrod's out of town right now." Nick brushed aside Heath's objections as if the fact that Jarrod wasn't there made it perfectly acceptable to bring the rats inside.

"Mother is, and Audra is. What do you think Mother's going to say about this?"

Nick didn't slow down a bit. "We just won't tell her. If I don't tell her and you don't tell her, she'll never know, right?"

"Wrong! Nick you aren't trying to sneak a frog past a schoolteacher, this is Mother. She'll find out. She _always_ finds out. She's _**Mother!**_"

Nick paused, and Heath wondered if he'd gotten through to him.

"Heath, could you bring some of that small fencing from the shop?"

Heath swallowed an urge to pound his head against something and left for the shop.

_' At least,' _He thought glumly _'Nick was finally interested in something about the ranch again.'_


	11. Chapter 11

For the record, this may be the only Big Valley Fic ever that had to be edited because it included the phrase "Nick and Heath had received Jarrod's email..." We all have our accomplishments.

BVBVBVBVBVBV

Sacramento in summer was miserable and Jarrod sincerely wished he was anywhere else but here. The only thing that could make Sacramento in summer worse was Sacramento in summer with a cattle auction in full swing, and under normal circumstances he would have made a point to be far, far away from here. Right now, though, Jarrod was still livid at Nick over the fight at the quarterly meeting and the entirely unfair accusation of well, vote rigging Nick had made.

Talking things over with Mother first was hardly laying a thumb on the scale, and he had no responsibility for how Audra voted. The fact that Jarrod was here to save Nick and Heath the trip, which had gone entirely unnoticed and unappreciated, also stung. If Nick was getting this wound up over something as simple as an addition to the breeding herd, then Jarrod was right to spend more time at the ranch and keep an eye on things.

On top of everything else, Jarrod could feel the a cold pounding in his head and chest, making him feel fuzzy headed, miserable and aching in every joint with what he suspected were early sign of influenza. (Mother had recounted his near miss with pneumonia at age 4 often enough that he was always a slight hypochondriac when he caught a cold.) All of these thoughts were churning in the back of his mind while he mopped sweat off his face and neck and waited for the breeder he had been in constant contact with for the last two months. They were supposed to meet at this spot but the rancher was running late.

"Mr Barkley?"

Jarrod turned to see an older man with a whip thin body approaching.

"That's me." Jarrod offered his hand. "Max Katarn, right?"

The rancher shook his hand,

"Pleased to meet you. " He gave a slight laugh. "I'm kind of surprised."

"Why's that?" Jarrod asked.

"Well, you have a reputation of being an A+ cattleman, but your clothes and your hands say otherwise. No offense."

"None taken." Jarrod sniffled. "You're thinking of my brothers. They couldn't make it, so I came, instead"

"Ah." Mr Katarn nodded vigorously. "Well, why don't we step this way, I'll show you my livestock."

They walked through the stockyard, and Jarrod realized he had been utterly mistaken about how miserable he could get.

When they were surrounded by the cattle, it got even hotter and, somehow the ammonia reek of urine managed to pierce his stopped up sinuses and make it even harder to breath. They stopped by a large pen that had been divided into multiple smaller holding pens, each holding a brahmen. Seeing them up close for the first time, Jarrod was taken aback by how large and muscular they were.

"My God, they're large."

"Sure are." The rancher said with pride. "All muscle, these fellows. Add them to a herd and you can upgrade your stock in three generations.. Of course, you might be more interested in biggest of the lot."

"Which one is he?" Jarrod asked, fascinated at the thought of an even bigger creature than the ones he was looking at.

The rancher hesitated. "He's still on the train. Has his own shipping car and I haven't unloaded him yet. Follow me."

They left the cattle grounds and Jarrod gratefully felt the temperature drop at least five degrees and the air became clearer. They approached a car that had been shaded over and the rancher gestured grandly.

"In there. I wouldn't go in," He cautioned as Jarrod reached for the handle. "The journey here has him a little riled up, we're waiting for him to settle down. Just stand on these steps."

Jarrod dutifully ascended the steps and peered thru the slats. Inside was possibly the biggest, most ridiculously over muscled bull he had ever seen. It was huge, and when it heard him approach it swung it's head around and stared intently at the lawyer, scraping his horns on the side of the railroad car, letting out slow measured snort through it's nose. Once again the suffocating scent of ammonia filled his lungs and he started coughing.

"Oh Sweet Moses."

The rancher laughed. "You alright, son?"

Jarrod stepped back and felt his lungs relax again.

"What were you asking for him?" Jarrod grabbed at the chance to get this deal done before he started feeling even worse.

"Well," The ranch pulled vigorously on his chin. "I was gonna put a price if $1500 on him but, it's save me time and trouble if you just leave him in the railcar and hook it up to the next train to Stockton. One is supposed to be leaving this afternoon. you'll take him then, I'll sell him for $1300."

Jarrod thought about it for a moment. A bull with great confirmation, a lower price on him and he could get out of this heat and maybe see a Doctor. "$1200. I'm going to going out of my way, too."

"Sold!" The rancher shook his hand vigorously. "What do you say we retire to a nice cool bar, draw up the paperwork and finish the deal?"

"I can live with that." Jarrod was relieved to be leaving the heat, dust and smell behind. He really needed to get in bed and try to sleep this off. All Nick and Heath's objections would disappear once they saw this beast.

bvbvbvbvbvbv

Nick watched glumly as a third of his available ranch hands labored to make a mobile animal transport cart strong enough to hold a brahma bull. They had received Jarrod's enthusiastic telegram yesterday and headed to the rail station this morning to meet the "incredible bull" Jarrod had purchased.

Their first twinge of foreboding came when they noticed they level of manure in the car. Someone had not wanted to take the bull outside the railcar to try to sell it. A careful perusal of the beast through the slats of the car confirmed it was a truly spectacular animal, but when a wrangler tried to enter the car to untie the halter, the bull had nearly gone berserk, simultaneously trying to kick, gore and stomp the man into the ground. Other attempts to get within 10 feet of the bull met with equal success. By noon it was obvious: this bull was vicious to the point of being unmanageable.

Nick had been forced to pull nearly his entire crew off their jobs to try to take care of the problem. Some of the hands were busy building the transport cart that could hold the bull, along with a chute that would prevent it from breaking free while going from the rail car to the cart. Most of the hands were at home trying desperately to reinforce a holding pen and pasturing area sufficiently to keep the damn thing penned in. Nick could feel a headache developing.

"This one's my fault, isn't it?" He asked Heath gloomily. "Once I realized that we were going to be stuck with a damn Brahma I should have just given up and gone to the damn cattle show, so we wouldn't get a damn bull that was damn crazy."

"I could've volunteered to go." Heath said, just as gloomily. This thing was going to take more time than any other animal on the ranch. Most cattle just sort of stood around grazing; anyone taking a reasonable amount of care could go in and out of a pen to feed and water them as needed without worrying about loss of life or limb. This beast was likely to kill someone, and even if not, would require so many safeguards and special handling they might end up needing to make him the specific responsibility of one of the hands and pay the man extra for his trouble.

Jarrod had been correct in that it was a terrific bull confirmation wise, and-had it been a placid, gentle beast-a bargain at the price. But it wasn't a gentle, placid beast, it was a mean, reactive monster that would test them at every step of the way. Throw in the possibility that it might pass that difficult personality down to his offspring and the incredible buy was a pig in a poke.

Nick or Heath would have spotted the signs, starting with the sheer volume of droppings in the railroad car. If someone hadn't unloaded a valuable bull from the car there was a damn good reason why and either one of them would have insisted on having it taken out and handled by someone. Jarrod didn't know to do that anymore than Nick or Heath knew how to draw up a will. At a guess, the breeder had quickly sized Jarrod up as a fish out of water and taken the opportunity to dump a dangerous animal that might otherwise have been unsellable due to its temperment.

Nick massaged his temples wearily and picked up a hammer. "Come on. Let's see if we can get this thing home before nightfall."

BVBVBVBV

It was long after nightfall before the two worn ranchers walked through the door of the manor to find Audra and Victoria were waiting for them.

"So, what do you think? Jarrod said he got an incredible deal on the bull." Victoria asked, pleased at the new addition to the breeding stock.

Audra was even more excited.

"He must be amazing if you two spent all day in town celebrating!" Audra enthused. "Will you show him to me tomorrow?" 

"No." Nick said flatly. "I'm not going to introduce you to the bull, and I want you to promise me you'll keep away from him." 

Victoria felt the faintest twinge of concern. "Jarrod said-" 

"I don't give a damn what Jarrod said. Jarrod's not a rancher. The bull is not a bargain and the damn thing Is dangerous." He fixed a sullen look on his Mother. "I don't suppose I can get you to take my opinion over Jarrods, but you-" He looked at Audra pleadingly "Please trust me on this. Promise me you'll stay away from that bull." 

Audra nodded with a touch of bewilderment. "I promise Nick." 

He relaxed. "Thanks, sis." 

The two cowboys headed up the stairs, utter exhaustion in every step. Victoria felt utterly alone.

bvbvbvbvbv

Victoria had a favorite spot to go to when she felt a need to be near her husband. It wasn't, as some thought, at his grave. She found the idea of trying to remember and connected with her husband's memory at the site of his bloody murder more that slightly morbid. No, her spot was about an acre from the mansion, under an old tree with low hanging branches. It had been a favorite spot for her and Tom to go when they needed to get away from their energetic children. It had also turned into a favorite spot for Nick and Jarrod, and later Audra and Eugene to play.

Tom had eventually had a stone fence built on three sides, with the fourth side open to the house for easy access. It reminded her of some of the fields from her childhood in New England and that fact, plus the many picnics the family had enjoyed there made it her favorite place to go when she needed to to feel close to her husband and work out knotty problems. And right now, her children were giving her problems. The argument at the last family meeting had left her shaken, with Nick being furious over her siding with Jarrod over the purchase of the bull. It was just one of several arguments Nick and Jarrod had engaged in lately over what Nick seemed to regard as a power struggle over the ranch.

In retrospect, she should have realized that Jarrod's well intentioned actions were going to result in Nick lashing out. He had done so once before, right after the war. He returned after being an officer in the army and expecting to be treated as such. Tom had regarded him simply as his son and gave him orders to be carried out, refusing to give Nick any real responsibility, ignoring Nick's suggestions and treating him like the teenager who had left . It had created an increasingly tense house that finally resulted in an explosion one night of where Nick demanded to be treated as a responsible adult and partner in the ranch business and Tom responded that it was HIS ranch and Nick would do as he was told or start a ranch of his own.

They woke up the next day to find Nick had not only left, he had taken over half the wranglers with him. The next few months were agonizing for Victoria, worried for her son and angry with her husband, a feeling that intensified as he stubbornly refused to admit that he just might have been wrong. They did get rumors that Nick and his wranglers had headed for the Texas/Arizona/New Mexico area and were rounding up feral cattle but no followup confirmation.

A few months later Tom-having had to hire almost an entirely new crew- drove the Barkley herd to market in in Sacremento, where buyers would purchase cattle for San Francisco. Victoria was supposed to take the train and meet him after the sale. It had been a good year and they were expecting an expansive profit on the cattle. When she arrived and checked into the hotel she found Tom sitting in the hotel room with a look of mild shock on his face. The cattle market, he told her, was terrible. They would just...JUST...be able to make a tiny profit for the year.

Victoria had been baffled. There had been poor years for cattle before and Tom hadn't reacted so. Then he explained the reason for his shock: The market was lousy because Nick had driven a huge herd of feral cattle directly to market in San Francisco, beating every other rancher in the state to the punch and, by going straight to the meat market itself instead of passing through the purchasers in Sacramento, had driven the demand for beef way down. Thomas Barkley had just had the bejesus kicked out of him by the son he had treated as a child. To add insult to injury, the San Francisco tactic was one Nick had suggested to his father only to have it flatly rejected.

He'd been smart another way too, getting the wranglers to join by offering a share in the sale while he spent his mustering out pay on the supplies needed for the round up and drive. The upshot was that Nick, if he wanted to, now had enough money to open "his own damn ranch" as his father put it, and very competitively too. Victoria gave Tom the 'I Told You So' stare and suggested he swallow his pride and contact his son with a past due apology.

When Nick had shown up, Tom had sincerely apologized and admitted Nick had outfoxed and outfought him. He told Nick if he came back to the ranch he would be a full partner and they would debate and discuss any ideas together. Tom would no longer unilaterally run everything. Nick agreed to return and the whole mess was cleared up with the happy result that the ranch ran better than ever. After her husband's death, Victoria had assured Nick the ranch was his to run, a decision that produced better results than she had ever dreamed were possible.

She had been stung at Nick's accusation of favoritism towards Jarrod, but in retrospect she shouldn't have been. Much of what Nick had said-while harsh-was correct. She had been consistantly supporting Jarrod at Nick's expense and she had not been giving Nick's ideas for the ranch fair consideration; and since Audra had drifted into the habit of voting with Jarrod and Victoria that meant Nick's views were being largely ignored.

Jarrod had the best of intentions, but he currently viewed Nick as being in need of assistance from his big brother, whether he wanted it or not. No doubt Nick saw that as Jarrod trying to push him out of the ranch, a battle he'd already fought with Tom. And Victoria had essentially broken the promise that both she and her husband had made to Nick; that the ranch would be his to run. It was no wonder he was unhappy.

And now the purchase of the bull, a bull Nick did't want in the first place, had in fact vehemently insisted was a bad idea; had turned into a disastrous investment. The holding pen it was in had to be checked daily for signs the bull was on the verge of breaking out. It had nearly injured one of the men. The hands were afraid to get anywhere near the beast.

Worse, Nick was refusing to deal with it; his standing orders were to feed it, water it and other than that, keep away. In the entire time that Nick had been running the ranch he had never flat out refused to deal with a problem. Victoria wasn't sure if Nick felt it was Jarrod's bull/Jarrod's problem or if he simply did not care. Either way, he wasn't doing anything about the bull and Victoria dreaded the day it got out and hurt someone.

Which led to a whole different problem: Jarrod's was determined to keep a strong hand in the ranch. She understood Jarrod's why. Jarrod hated messy; just hated it. Her oldest son was the only person she knew who wanted his work clothes starched. And by Jarrod's definition, Nick, right now, was messy and had been ever since the night he had smash a mirror into pieces at the expense of his hands. Jarrod's idea of help? Take over the operation that was messy until it was under control-or not messy as it were.

Nick wasn't the first to be affected by this quirk of Jarrods. When he was ten she came into his room to find him waxing the floor, solemnly explaining that last time she had done it she had missed a spot. When he got old enough to read he continually re-organized the books on the bookshelf until finally Tom, exasperated because he could never find the book he wanted, gave Jarrod a section of his own and ordered him to keep his hands off the rest of the books.

In this case, however, Jarrod's determination to take a hand in the ranch business was causing a major rift between himself and Nick with poor Heath caught in the middle. And Jarrod, for all his complaints about how stubborn Nick was, was every bit as stubborn and unlikely to budge. By the time the sun was starting to set, all Victoria had for her worries was a pounding headache and no solution whatsoever.


	12. Chapter 12

Authors notes: To the person who wanted to know if Doc Marten was named after the shoes: Yeah. I had a pair and they were my favorites for years.  
To Paula Paterson Mcclendon: You'll probably like this chapter more. And Bear in mind while I think your solution is a bit drastic ("Jarrod should leave and never come back!") I do agree he's taking it a bit on the chin here. It's easy to say Jarrod screwed up on buying the bull, but the honest fact is that once the ranch was committed to adding the bull and it was a done deal, It was Nick's responsiblity to go to the auction and make certain they got a good one. But right now Nick is so unhappy and disengaged that he's paying more attention to his pet rats than he is to taking care of the ranch. There is blame on both sides here. unfortunately Jarrod's is just the more visable one.

BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBV

"Jarrod Barkley!"

Jarrod turn at the sound of his name being called in the halls of the San Francisco courthouse and scowled upon seeing Major Macklin walking in his direction. He had forgotten that the Courthouse was right next to Federal Offices and many a meeting between federal prosecutor and defending attorneys occurred in these halls. It was in these halls that Jarrod had first been approached by Macklin for the troublesome and in retrospect, utterly regrettable mock court martial against General Alderson that had sent Nick into a downward spiral. Jarrod was not pleased to see Macklin.

"Major." Jarrod said stiffly.

"Sorry to bother you. We are tying up a few loose threads and wondered if you could drop by our office this afternoon.

"I expect to be in court all day. "

"Tomorrow then?"

"I have meetings scheduled with my clients. I'm afraid."

"Day after, then."

"I believe I'm going to be tied up in a case."

Macklin stared at him.

"Mr Barkley, this is a federal case."

"I am well aware of what kind of case it is, Major, considering the toll it's taken on my family."

"Then you're aware it's not going away." Macklin said bluntly.

"Major, I have co-operated beyond all reasonable expectation. I fail to see why the Government is continually requiring another deposition, statement or just plain handholding over a case where the accused provided a full confession and, for that matter, is dead. Surely at some point your lawyers can take over the case."

"Well at the moment they happen to believe they need your input and if you don't wish to co-operate we will issue a subpoena."

Jarrod gritted his teeth. This was the problem with governments, he thought inwardly. He was all in favor of doing his patriotic and civic duty, but at some point he expected the government to, if not reward his assistance, at least acknowledge it and let him return to his normal life. Instead it was as if he had stepped into some smelly tarlike substance that was creeping over his shoe and up his leg.

"I can meet you after court today." He finally said grudgingly. Best get this over with.

"Until then, Mr. Barkley."  
BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBVBV

Jarrod reviewed the document he was signing carefully, making certain the statement was true and correct. Ever since he graduated from law school, he was astonished by how many attorneys would take care to examine their clients' legal forms down to the last word but casually scribbled their signature on their own personal paperwork with dire results. He had finally decided it must be simple arrogance and firmly resolved to never take the approach that he was so smart that he didn't need to take nothing for granted. He had a feeling though, that he'd done something similar with Alderson's trial, casually taken it for granted that it would go smoothly only to have everything go wrong. It was unreasonable of him to blame Macklin, he knew. It had been his decision to go through with it, and it was his responsibility to deal with the results. He blamed him anyway and he was ashamed and angry.  
"Is that it?" He demanded of the major.  
Macklin looked at him coolly.  
"Mr Barkley, I get the impression you're upset about something."  
Jarrod gave the Major a hard look.  
"It should have been called off. The moment Nick showed up it should have been called off."  
Macklin shook his head. "We couldn't do that. If we'd done that then Alderson would have realized we were onto him and we never would have gotten the information we needed."  
"That doesn't matter." Jarrod snapped.  
"Yes, it does. We had to get this information, and you know it. That's why you let it continue. You knew how important this was."  
"Well I was wrong!" Jarrod flared. He sagged in his chair, exhausted. "I should have stopped it. At the very least I should have told Nick what was happening. Maybe he would have agreed to go along." Macklin disagreed. "No, I don't think he would have. I think he would have seen it as a betrayal of his commander, and possibly a betrayal of family. I think your family, as a whole and Nick in particular, sees the world in terms of circles of loyalty that works its way out. Loyalty to the family, then to their friends, then to the valley. The fact is, and you KNOW this, looking at the world in terms of 'family first' is a luxury; sometimes an expensive one. You understand that; I'm not sure the rest of your family does."  
Jarrod turned angrily. "I don't appreciate-"  
"I'm not insulting your brothers," Macklin interrupted quietly. "Or your family. They are fine, upstanding people. If there were more people like them the world would be a better place. But the world is not just black and white. There are shades of gray; times when you have to risk doing the wrong thing to do the right one, times when you have to make a choice about what you are going to do even though there are no clear guidelines. What happened with General Alderson was one of them. The man helped assassinate a president. He massacred a town to cover his tracks. A man who would do that is capable of anything. God knows what else he may have done to this country if he had been able to stay concealed. You prevented him from doing that."  
Jarrod felt his anger drain away, pain in it's wake.

"I hurt my brother." He said dully. "I hurt him so badly that he may never be the same. I hurt him so badly that..." there was a choking pain in his throat and he fought past it. "I don't know if he still sees me as his brother." He closed his eyes, picturing a laughing, dark haired boy hanging upside down in a tree, absolute trust shining in his face. "We were so close when we were boys. I think I'd give anything to be close to him again, even for a moment." He shouldn't be telling Macklin this, he thought; then tiredly decided he didn't care.  
Macklin shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe you will be." He offered, awkwardly. "Maybe if you explain, if you can make him understand-"  
"It's not something you explain Macklin." Jarrod interrupted, feeling more tired than angry. "It's not a matter of intellectual debate, it's an emotion. It's how he sees the world. I can't argue him into understanding, he has to do it on his own. I don't know if he can."  
"Maybe he'll surprise you." Macklin suggested. "Do you know why I handed you those notes that night, and walked away without arresting your brother?" Jarrod smiled feebly. "You were dazzled by my argument?"  
Macklin snorted with laughter, "Ummm..No."  
"You thought he did the right thing?"  
"Not entirely." A slow shake of the head. "I'm still not 100% sure he did."  
"You felt he had saved lives that night? Or you were just tired of the case?"  
"That was part of it." Macklin admitted. "The other part was...for probably the first, maybe the only time in his life, he saw things in shades of gray. The people he should be loyal to were killing innocents. The comrades he was loyal to, and would fight with and die for, were looting a town and murdering civilians." 'His whole world was inside out, and he was alone and at a terrible moment in his life. He didn't have family there; he didn't have a commander to tell him what to do. All he had was himself, and an insane situation and a place where all the black and whites blurred into gray. And in that fog of gray he made a choice. Maybe it was the wrong decision, maybe it was the right one. But I don't think that's something that a court room could sort out."  
Jarrod was silent for a moment. "Your point being?"  
"He understood that night that some decisions are good and bad, that they might be right and wrong all at the same time. Maybe someday he'll understand it again." 


	13. Chapter 13

_ Journal Entry_

_One thing that was funny growing up is how close I was to Jarrod. There was four years difference between us. I knew some kids whose older brothers would act like they didn't even exist and that was if they were just one year older and not four. With Jarrod though that just isn't how it was. I remember following him everywhere, and he knew me. He knew me better than anyone else in the world._

_He was away at college once when I was 16 and I fell down a mine shaft. Couldn't get up, couldn't go down, sides were too smooth to try to climb and when Da and the hands tried to just pull me out, they couldn't do it. They were going to have to try to dig down at an angle to get me out. At first, I thought this would be fast and I'd just have a story, an adventure of my own to talk about. But after a while I realized this wasn't a story and it wasn't an adventure. If they didn't get me out I could die._

_Listening to Mother tipped me off really; it was all in her voice and I started thinking 'they're not going to get me out. I'm going to die in here all alone' and I was so scared. I could hear Mother telling me to keep talking to her, that everything was going great and soon I'd be out of there. But she was scared too, I could hear how frightened she was and the fact that she was trying to hide it just scared me worse. _

_I wanted to give up._

_ 'Then she stopped talking, and someone-I couldn't see who-someone blocked the top of the shaft and I heard a voice below 'Damn It Nick! Can't I leave you alone for five minutes without having you get in trouble?' It was Pappy. At that moment, I knew everything was going to be fine. If Jarrod was here and he was yelling at me, then everything was normal.'_

_I even started to laugh. I wasn't surprised that he'd left college and rode all the way home just so he could stick his head in a hole in the ground and shout at me. I knew I was safe. Pappy might holler at me but he'd would take care of everything. "_

_Then he did the best thing in the world. I'd been down there for nearly 24 hours and, well, I was close to wetting in my pants. And I would rather have died then be pulled from the shaft smelling like a baby that wet his diaper. The whole valley would have known and laughed about it, but I was too embarrassed to mention it and I don't think anyone thought about. But Jarrod wasn't there ten minutes before he chased everyone away and lowered a bottle with a stopper on and a note inside telling me to use that and he'd pull it up and get rid of it. It felt so good to relieve myself in that bottle...it had gotten downright painful and nobody thought of it but Jarrod. But that was Pappy. Back then he thought about that kind of stuff and seemed to know what I needed before I knew. _

_Now days, it's more like we're two blind men in a big room, groping around trying to find each other. I hate that. _

**BVBVBVBVBVBVBV**

Jarrod was angry. He had come home after an exhausting two weeks in San Francisco, and the first thing he saw as he approached the house was his bull in a separate enclosure insultingly far away from the barn and the house as if it had some contagious disease. When he arrived in the barn he noticed his saddle was missing from it's usual place. Eventually he found it in a corner, dirty and damp, with the conches dull and scratched. The matching bridle was a few feet away and in even worse shape.

Determined to ask Nick what was going on, Jarrod started looking for him without success, and discovered his fish were dead, pale bellies floating skyward as if they were trying to get a tan. The final injury came when he walked past the family garden and found his vegetables….and only his vegetable….in poor shape and covered in cabbage worms. It would take hours to pull them off the cabbage and there was no guarantee the plants could be saved anyway. At this point it was beyond obvious that this was no mistake and he started hunting down his brother in earnest.

It took him another hour to locate Nick, finally seeing him hitch his horse and walk into the house. Fuming, Jarrod followed and found Nick talking to Heath.

"Nick. I want a word with you!"

Heath glanced from Jarrod to Nick and let out a sigh.

"I got some work to do outside."

Jarrod waited just long enough for Heath to leave, then turned to his brother.

"What is going on Nick?"

"What do you mean?" Nick

"My tack is filthy. My fish are dead. The bull is so far away from the house it's almost an inviting someone to steal him. My vegetable-and ONLY my vegetables-are covered in pests and half dead. Is this some kind of petty revenge of some kind? Because plainly everything that belongs to me is being ignored. Did you give an order like that?"

For once Nick shrugged off the approaching argument, looking calm and collected.

"Not at all. In fact, I assigned an employee to do nothing but take care of your things, including the garden and the fish pond."

"Well whoever you assigned hadn't been doing his job, Nick! What did you do, hire the laziest man in the valley?" Jarrod felt his temper rising again. He was, he suspected, being baited but for what or why he couldn't tell. That just made him angrier.

"You tell me." Nick said coolly. "It's your client McArthur."

"McArthur?" Jarrod felt the hook sink in and flushed. "What, you just threw him out there with no instructions to let him sink or swim?"

"Nope. Told him exactly what to do and told him to come find me the moment he has a problem. Haven't heard from him since."

"So, this was on purpose? To make a point?" Jarrod was boiling. Nick seemed coolly indifferent and it made the whole thing even more infuriating.

"You hired him. Your hire..your problem."

"So, you assigned someone you knew wouldn't do his job?"

"I warned you this was a bad idea, Jarrod, just like the other occasions when you've hired someone that Heath and I have to bulldog. Well, not this time. You wanted him so much, you got him. So, if you're not happy with his work then either ride him until he does it right or fire him. And the next time you insist I hire one of your clients he's gonna be your problem too, because he's not gonna be mine."

"Jarrod." Victoria's unexpected voice stopped Jarrod from his next heated words. "Give me some time alone with your brother."

Jarrod stood in the living room for a moment, then wheeled and stalked outside.

Victoria stepped into the room and approached Nick, her back stiff with anger.

"Did you know?"

Nick didn't back down.

"That McArthur was going to do a terrible job? Not for certain but I suspected. Most of the people Jarrod hires are bad employees, I didn't see any reason to expect any difference with this one."

"And you thought this was an acceptable way to handle it?" Victoria tried reasoning with her son.

Nick bristled. "How else was I supposed to handle it? I've pointed out that these are bad decisions; I've said we shouldn't hire these people and each time I'm overruled. Did you know the last guy he brought in almost got one of my wranglers killed? And then there was that one...Benny. He almost set the barn on fire. Could've killed all the horses and maybe killed or injured some of the hands! And all to scratch the itch of Jarrod's good intentions!"

"That doesn't mean this was the right thing to do." Victoria found her voice rising with frustration.

"Maybe it wasn't. But I'll bet he doesn't dump one of clients on me again. Maybe the next time he's so eager to hire someone he can put them to work in his law practice." Nick walked to the door and paused. "And if Jarrod doesn't like the way I run this ranch, he can take over."

He shut the door and let out a deep breath before heading toward the barn, arriving in time to see McColl astride his favorite horse leading chastened looking Ira McArthur towards the road to Stockton. He cast a glance at Nick when he saw him.

"Jarrod asked me to take Ira to town. Can you go ahead and pay him for the work he's done?"

Nick raised his eyebrows but refrained from pointing out that paying him for work would mean paying him nothing. Instead he handed over a month's wages and watched the two ride away. There was a scuffling in the barn door and Jarrod appeared, holding a small bucket. He stared at Nick for a long moment before walking in the direction of the garden. After a minute Nick followed and watched as his brother kneeled in the cauliflower patch and started removing cabbage worms and dropping them in the pail. Nick hesitated, then joined him a row over. There was a crunch of footsteps and Heath joined as well. They sat there and pulled worms off the plants until the bucket was full and needed to be emptied before they could start again.

Nobody said a word.


	14. Chapter 14

Jarrod had a monumental headache, and it was largely Nick's fault. He'd had to go before the Judge in Ira McArthur's trial and explain to his honor that the defendent was no longer working for him and therefore he could no longer guarantee the man would be employed. The judge had raked him over the coals, something that hadn't happened since he was a first year attorney. The judge had also dismissed him as the man's pro bono attorney and assigned another one to the case. It had been humiliating.

As if that wasn't enough Jarrod had discovered just this morning that Nick had rats-RATS!- in his room. They were caged in a fairly elaborate set up, but they were rats all the same and Jarrod's first and kindest impulse, followed by several less kind impulses, were to take the dirty little things and turn them loose someplace far away from the ranch.

He was additionally aggrieved when he discovered that one of the reasons he couldn't find Nick after discovering his equipment and so on had been neglected was because Nick was spending the afternoon talking to Doc Marten again. Best Jarrod could tell, Nick did so every week and as always, anything that involved Doc Marten set Jarrods' teeth on edge.

What made it worse was the investigators he'd hired had returned with glowing reports of Doctor Marten, top marks in school, admiring peers, an impressive reputation as an alienist, albeit one with unique views on how to treat melancholy and hysteria. It grated on his nerves to not be able to point to a single specific legitimate reason to dislike the man.

But the whole affair with McArthur had proven that Jarrod's relationship with Nick was possibly even worse than he had thought. Despite his efforts, everything he did to try to help only seemed to blow up in his face.

Like it not, Dr Marten seemed to be Nick's chosen confident right now, and if Jarrod wanted to find out what his brother was thinking, he had to start somewhere. He suspected Dr Marten might be able to help, even if he was the single most annoying person Jarrod had ever met. So, after walking to the Dr's office and wrestling with the fact that if he listed the top ten things he DIDN"T want to do, visiting Doc Marten was three of them, he finally grabbed the door latch and walked in.

"I was wondering if you were going to come in." Dr Marten greeted him. "You know if you stood out there too much longer I was going to have to charge you a fee. So, what can I do for you? You feeling sick?"

"No."

"Are you here for one of your relatives? Do I need to get my medical bag?"

"No. Nothing like that." Jarrod was irritated. He suspected Doc Marten knew exactly why here was here but was going to force him to say it.

"So, what are you here for? There must be some reason you're standing in my vestibule."

"What are you doing to Nick?"

"Ah." The Doctor exhaled softly. "Maybe we should go to my office." He gestured towards a door and led Jarrod inside. It wasn't huge but it was a good size for a single person.

Doctor Marten gestured towards a seat while he relaxed into his own. "Have a seat."

Jarrod briefly considered standing.

"Please." The Doctor gestured again and Jarrod reluctantly sat. "You want to know what I'm doing to your brother. Would you believe me if I told you we spend our time talking?"

"For months on end?"

"If need be."

"And what do you talk about?"

A slight smile. "That's private."

"Too private to share with his family?" Oh, this man was annoying.

"If he thinks so. If Nick wants to tell you what we talk about, that's up to him. I can't tell you information about my patients any more than you can give me information about your clients."

"There's no reason for him to be your patient anymore." Jarrod pointed out.

"I disagree. And as long as he thinks he can use my help, he's my patient."

"His hands healed long ago-"

"I'm not treating his hands."

"Then what exactly are you treating?" Jarrod demanded.

"The rest of him. The parts that make up the whole, if you will."

Jarrod eyed him distrustfully and the Doctor leaned forward.

"Don't you wonder why Nick seemed to drop off a cliff after that court martial incident?"

"He felt guilty. He blamed himself for something that wasn't his fault."

The Doctor shook his head.

"It was more than that. It wasn't just what happened that night, it was happened the day before, and the week before and the year before and the decade before. All the pieces that make up our life affect what we do and how we feel today. And if some of those pieces don't fit as well as they should then that can be a problem. You can't go back and repair the piece, what you can do is change how you react because of it. That's what Nick and I are working on."

Jarrod gritted his teeth.

"I take it you don't agree." The Doctor said dryly. "I have gathered from Nick that the two of you seem to be…knocking heads a bit lately."

"A lot more than a bit." Jarrod said reluctantly. "I don't understand what he's doing half the time. Until now I may have wanted to wring his neck occasionally, but I understood him. Lately though I don't know what he's thinking. Or Why."

"The 'why' is simple," Doc Marten responded. "He's trying to change. Let him."

"I don't like it." Jarrod admitted, appalled at himself. This was the last man he wanted to confide in.

"Of course, you don't like it. When people change it's usually irritating to the people around them; but you can't stuff him back into a box labeled 'This is the brother I know' just because it's easier for you."

Jarrod sighed and got up to leave. He wasn't satisfied but he suspected he wasn't going to get anywhere. He paused in the doorway.

"Did you know he's living with rats?"

The Doctor appeared startled.

"Rats? Real Rats?"

Jarrod nodded grimly.

"Two of them. He's built them a cage that's like some rodent Taj Mahal."

"Why did he decide to make pets out of them?"

"I don't know." Jarrod was exasperated. "I haven't asked him."

"Well, maybe you should."

bvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbv

Conversation over dinner that night was even more stilted and uncomfortable than last night's. Heath had observed that Jarrod had been noticeably silent, but on several occasions had paused eating, fixed his eyes on Nick and got that look Heath privately labeled the "we need to talk" expression.

Audra's latest swain has questionable morals? "Audra, we need to talk." Mother decided to get thrown in prison to investigate a death? "Mother, we need to talk." Someone from Heath's past turns up and Jarrod suspects they're up to no good? "Heath, we need to talk."

So, the fact that Jarrod had the 'we need to talk' look on his face and kept pinning his eyes on Nick suggested he was the target of this latest conversation.

What was unusual was that Jarrod seemingly was having some sort of problem bringing it up. Whatever the cause was, Heath mentally wagered himself a beer that Jarrod was one more piercing look away from discussing whatever he felt needed airing out. Jarrod paused, put down his fork, focused on Nick again and said:

"Nick, we need to talk."

Heath could just feel the cool, frothy brew sliding down his throat.

bvbvbvbvbvbvbvbv

"Nick, we need to talk."

Jarrod was unusually uncertain of himself, trying to find the right time to discuss the whole rat matter with Nick. He knew in advance that any sign of disapproval was going to turn this conversation into a shouting match, so before he went any further, he took his first considered query of "For God's sake Nick, why did you bring those filthy creatures into the house?" and squelched it firmly. Keep an open mind, he told himself; and when his cringing mind responded by slamming shut at the whole idea of rodents in the house, he determinedly used a crowbar to wedge open a small space labeled "rats"."

"What about?" Nick sounded wary.

"I was...curious. I understand you uh...have some pets? Jarrod had to clamp his jaw down on other possible descriptions of the rats. Er...pets.

"Yeah. Got them about two weeks ago."

"And...these are ... rats?"

"Two of them." Nick said defensively. "I have them in a cage." He added helpfully, as if the fact that they were in a cage made them something other than rats.

"Nick! You brought RATS in the house?" Mother all but jumped to her feet. Audra didn't say anything but looked horrified beyond words; a state Jarrod hoped would last.

"Just two!"

"Rats?"

Nick bristled.

"Mother." Jarrod tried to soothe his Mother, "May I... ?"

Still looking appalled, Victoria nodded and sat down gingerly as if she suspected the rats in question were crawling under her feet.

Jarrod was feeling slightly lost. Usually he would use his 'cross examination' manner to get more information but the relationship between himself and Nick was too 'tetchy', to use a Heathism, to fall back on that. He finally gave up trying to find a way to interrogate his brother and just let his utter confusion show.

"Can I ask why you got rats? I mean, I can imagine a dog or even a cat maybe, but...rats?"

"Well, I wasn't planning on it." Nick still sounded slightly defensive. "I was in the barn and I heard the scratching noise behind me and I turned around and saw the two rats, so I threw something at them and missed but it did knock them off the ledge where they were. '

"One was stunned and the other one wasn't and I thought 'Well, at least I'll get that one' only as I get over there to kill it the first rat came running back to the second one, and he was holding a piece of hay. The second rat grabbed it and the first rat started leading it away and I realized the second rat was blind.I couldn't believe it. I mean, they were rats, but one of them cared enough about the other to help it. They weren't just filthy little rodents, they were more than that."

He gave a pleading look at his mother.

"I couldn't kill them then, not just because they're rats. So, I put a bucket over them and built a cage and brought them to my room. I've been handing them. They're very clean, they're friendly. They're fun to watch. If I turn them out now, they're gonna get killed in days."

Jarrod rubbed a hand over his forehead. Why, he wondered wearily, couldn't anything with Nick be easy? Why not a dog or a cat? Why not pigeons? He'd heard pigeons made good pets. They could be friendly, used to send messages and in a pinch, cooked and eaten. But no, it had to be rats. Granted, they were perhaps unusual rats but...rats?

Victoria looked at him for ideas and he shrugged slightly. Getting rid of the rats at this point, would be probably be a bigger problem than keeping them.

Victoria sighed. "You will keep them in your room Nick?" Technically this was a request but in reality it was a demand.

Nick didn't care. He nodded happily.

"Not a problem. I'm thinking of expanding their cage.."

And he continued talking, sounding so happy and excited that Jarrod, for the first time, didn't mind that they were rats.

BVBVBVBVBVBVBV

Jarrod walked through the door of Doc Marten's practice and knocked on the door of the study. He didn't particularly want to be here, but having informed the man about Nick's rats, felt honor bound to get back to him with what he had discovered.

"Mr Barkley, nice to see you again."

"He felt sorry for them." Jarrod said flatly.

"I'm sorry?" The Doctor looked genuinely baffled.

"Nick. He felt sorry for the rats. They're rather unusual, it seems."

"Unusual how?" He definitely had the Doc's attention.

"One of them is blind and the other leads it around with a piece of hay that they both bite on; almost like a leash. When he realized that he said he couldn't just kill them, so he brought them inside. "

"Huh. That's interesting."

"That's your word for it?" Jarrod said sourly. "He's keeping vermin as pets and your word for it is 'Interesting?'"

Marten cocked his head. "You don't find it so? Here's two creatures he usually, I assume, would have killed as pests, but he decided to protect and care for them instead. I find that interesting."

Jarrod sat on the arm of a chair. "Well I called that-" _Crazy _his mind supplied, _Nuts_ was an alternative. He decided to shelve them both. "Unusual behavior."

"Why does that bother you?" Doc asked.

"Oh come on! Bringing rats into the house? Building some rodent castle for them to live in?" Jarrod said with exasperation. "Of course it bothers me. Sometimes I don't even recognize him anymore!"

"It's possible you don't; not if you're looking for the Nick Barkley of a year ago. Maybe that's what bothers you the most, that he's not the person you are used to."

"Then who is he?" Jarrod asked in exasperation.

"Well, I'd guess that's up to Nick."

"This isn't something he would have done before..." Jarrod looked for a polite way to phrase it.

"Before I came to town?"

"Exactly."

"Mr Barkley," The Doctor leaned forward. "I am not the enemy here. There is no enemy here. There's just Nick, trying to figure out some things that, well let's just say have been bothering him for a long time. It's my job to help him."

"Then why is he so angry all the time?" Jarrod demanded.

The question seemed to surprise the Doctor. "Is that your impression? That he's become angry just recently? You see, I would suggest he's been angry for years. I fact I believe your description is 'a bull in a china shop?'"

Jarrod flushed slightly.

"I understand he has started or finished several brawls, is well known for settling things with his fists, takes offense easily, has in fact, actually punched people over an insult. He seems impulsive, easily baited and rarely thinks things through. This is not the description of a calm and happy person. I should think you'd be pleased that he's trying to...let's say resolve things differently."

Jarrod glowered at the man. "Look, Nick may have been hot tempered but at least he seemed to be happy. But lately he's sullen and withdrawn, sulks his way through meetings, opposes my every suggestion as soon as I've made it. I don't think THAT'S the description of a happy man either. And I've been doing everything I can to make things easier on him."

"So, you feel as if he doesn't appreciate it?"

"Not a bit." Jarrod said bitterly. "I have an office in San Francisco that I've probably seen once a month at most in the last year. I've cut back on my practice here in Stockton. I double check the books to make certain he's not missing anything. I've tried to evaluate the ranch and see what it might need, I've even gone to auctions and sales Nick and Heath don't want to go to. I haven't asked him for thanks and I've received damn little-"

Jarrod was surprised to find an burning knot in his chest and his body rigid with tension.

Doc Marten cocked his head. "You look like a man who's had an epiphany."

Jarrod released a deep breath. "Maybe Nick's not the only one who's been angry."


	15. Chapter 15

"Alright, now the important thing to remember is to hold the reins lightly, but not too loose. The reins are how you talk to the horses, understand?"

Jordan giggled happily, as she sat on Nick's lap.

The ranch was picking up supplies and Angela had-much to her pride-been entrusted with Silas's grocery list. That mean bringing Jordan along. Nick was taking the opportunity to teach the toddler the fine points of controlling a two-horse hitch, much to the child's delight.

"Jeez Nick, why didn't you leap right into having her control six horses at once?" Heath drawled.

"Saving that for the trip home." Nick answered happily.

They pulled up in front of the dry good store and Nick helped Angela and Jordan down.

"You two wait here, I'm going to place the ranch order, then we'll go to the grocer where Silas gets his supplies.

Angela nodded shyly.

Nick eyeballed the little girl standing by the wagon.

"Jordan, do you want some candy?"

The little girl brightened, nodding enthusiastically.

"I'll bring you some…you wait here for me, alright?"

She smiled happily as she listened to his voice rumbling in the store, finishing up his purchases, then her eye was caught by a familiar color. It was the cream color head of the beautiful palomino owned, unfortunately, by town bully, chronic whiner and rich boy Duncan Tap. He tied the horse to the pole and started to stump into the store, snarling as the little girl approached.

"Barkley! Is this your mongrel? Keep her on a leash."

Nick appeared in store door, wondering what was going on in time to see Jordan stumble slightly and grab Tap's arm for balance. The bully yanked his arm away from the soft touch, and knocked the little girl to the ground.

"For Christ's sake Barkley," he snapped, "Keep the little n-r away from me."

Instantly Nick's vision turned a vivid maroon and a sound like rushing water filled his ears; a dull roar that drowned out everything else. He couldn't hear the sound of his fists pounding the stout southerner, or the surprised grunts of pain that rapidly turned into mewling cries for mercy. He didn't hear his brothers shouting at him to stop, to get control of himself and calm down. He was unaware of it all until he felt arms wrapping around his chest and neck, pulling him away from the one-sided battle and holding him back while his vision slowly returned to normal and the beserker rage drained away. It was only then that he heard Jordan crying loudly as she clung to Angela's dress.

"Let me go." He tried to get to Jordan but the hands gripping him held fast. He felt the fury rising again and wrenched free of his brothers. "GET OFF ME!"

Jarrod and Heath eyed him warily, positioning themselves between the angry cowboy and his victim. They needn't have bothered; Nick had already forgotten the man.

"Jordan?" He asked. He watched stricken with guilt as Jordan flinched away and cried louder.

"Mista Barkley, why don' I take her away to calm down, sum" Angela picked up the little girl and retreated several steps, moving carefully away from the whimpering man on the sidewalk.

"Why don't you wait in my office." Jarrod suggested wearily. "I'll see if I can't sort this mess out."

Nick watched miserably as the sobbing toddler was led away. Jarrod shook his head.

It took hours to sort out with the sheriff, and by the time they were done, Heath had taken Angela and Jordan home.

**bvbvbvbvbvbvbvbv**

Supper had been a subdued affair. Jordan had still been upset and frightened and Angela asked to postpone the reading lesson. Jarrod was annoyed at once again having been pulled into clean up duty over a brawl Nick had been involved in. Heath was late because he had taken Angela and Jordan home immediately and then made a second trip into town to pick up the supplies. All in all, it had been a cheerless group and for once Victoria was relieved when everyone left for bed early.  
She had settled herself in but shortly found she was unable to get any rest. Finally, she gave up and went downstairs to find a book to read and was startled to find Nick sitting alone in the dark, not reading, not working on the books, not even with a drink in his hand, simply sitting and staring blankly into the flames of the fire.

"Nick?"

The shadowed figure moved slightly, but didn't respond.

"Nick, are you all right?"

"Yes." The response was barely audible, making up her mind for her. She started to turn up the light in the room so she could see him.

"Don't." It wasn't an order, just a softly worded request. "Best leave the lights off. I'm trying to…. I'm trying to figure…." His voice trailed off again and Victoria seated herself beside him, troubled at his reticence.

"Is this about Jordan?"

"Yes." A moment's pause " , not her specifically, but I…when I realized I frightened her I looked at myself, tried to see what she had seen and…" He trailed off again and Victoria felt his hand enfolding hers tightly. She stroked her fingers reassuringly, reminded of a child seeking the safety of a parent's grip in a frightening darkness. "I've been thinking that I am very much like Bobby Bats."

Victoria was appalled at the comparison. "Nick, how could you think you are anything like that dreadful man? He was a rapist and a murderer and a-"

"Very violent man." Nick finished quietly. "So am I."

Victoria gripped her son's hand, shaking it slightly for emphasis. "You have nothing in common with Bobby Bats."

"Really?" Had the voice not been so weary and shell shocked, she would have thought it scoffing. "I'd say we have a great deal in common. We both get angry and act without thought to the consequences. We both lash out at things... At PEOPLE when we're upset. It's only a matter of how often it happens. When Bobby Bats got angry he murdered people. Innocents. I've done the same."

"When?" Victoria demanded. "When have you ever murdered someone like that man did? Nick, you get angry and you lash out, but you've never-"

"I have." The answer was quiet, self-condemning. "Do you remember me telling you about Tommy? About how his mother was killed by two men and how I had to take him to New England to stay with his Aunt's?"

It was hardly something she would forget, that two-month period of near despair at her sons' disappearance.

"Yes."

"I was the one who killed her." His voice was still soft; oblivious to the dizzying sense of vertigo she was feeling. "They came up behind us in the alley and demanded my money. They had their guns pulled, they had the advantage…I should have just turned it over. But when I realized we were being robbed I was furious. I was thinking 'How DARE they?' and that I wasn't going to let them rob me. ME! My money, my pride…And that's all I was thinking. Julia was right next to me, she was right in the line of fire … and I didn't even think of her. I never once considered her safety. I just… I pulled my gun and I fired. When they shot back they hit Julia."

He turned to face her and for the first time she could see into his troubled, guilt stricken eyes.

"I killed her. I didn't fire the bullet, but I killed her. She died because I was too angry to think of anything but my pride."

"That doesn't make you the same as Bobby Bats." Victoria kept her voice level and firm, trying to interject confidence into a son who had become increasingly shaky and uncertain over the last year.

"Same result, just as if Bobby Bats got angry and decided to gun her down. Julia was dead; a little boy lost his mother and all for what?" His voice broke "Seventy-three dollars." She felt hot droplets stinging her hand. "I didn't even stop to consider that her life was worth more than seventy-three dollars."

The dark figure next to her struggled to get his breathing under control again while she grieved silently for him, wondering why she never could seem to find a way to comfort this one particular child of hers. She had five children now, and when the other four were in trouble she would unhesitatingly step in to assist, whether that assistance was wanted or not. But with Nick, somehow she was powerless to give him what he needed.

"When we were kids," his voice was dull and flat "I remember asking Pappy why Jamis Iverson had been hung. I can remember people talking about his hanging and I remember the gallows being built in town, but I didn't hear anyone say what he'd done. I asked Jarrod one day why they were going to hang him and he said it was because Jamis Iverson was selfish. I didn't know then that Jarrod was just trying to scare me into giving him some of the cookies you'd packed for lunch.

"Years later, Preacher Carver was talking about Iverson in some sermon. He said Jamis was broke and hit someone over the head to steal drinking money. Iverson never meant to kill the man, but he never thought about what might happen to the poor guy either. Preacher Carver said Jamis Iverson's evil was rooted in selfishness. So, Pappy'd been right all along."

'All Jamis Iverson cared about was getting a drink. All Bobby Bats cared about was having a 'good time' with a woman. All I cared about was my anger, my pride. Innocent people died because of it. That's what Jordan saw today. That's what frightened her."

"It's not the same." She whispered, knowing it wasn't good enough.

"I think, maybe, it is."

Victoria couldn't see her son's eyes in the dark, and was grateful for that small mercy. There was a whisper of a sound and they turned to see Jordan, standing in the doorway, clutching an empty glass in her hand.

"Hey, little girl."

Brown eyes studied Nick quietly, and he felt emboldened to touch her hand.

"Thirsty?"

Jordan nodded silently.

"Here." He poured some water into the glass and watched her sip at for a minute.

"Is that better?"

She fidgeted silently in response.

"Jordan, Sweetie I didn't mean to scare you. I would never hurt you." The sad brown eyes were still watching him and he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Jordan."

She nodded slowly.

"We friends again?"

The little girl nodded again and held out her arms to him. Victoria felt a painful mixture of envy and relief as Nick picked up the baby and eased into the rocking chair. She wanted to be the one to comfort her son and she was embarrassed at being jealous of an infant. Nick stroked Jordan's back gently and rolled slowly in the old wooden rocker. A memory flashed in Victoria's mind of her eternally rushing son slowing down in the same way to rock his little sister in that exact chair and her jealousy faded away, replaced with wonder at how gentle her sometimes jagged son could be. Jordan took her thumb out of her mouth and looked up at Nick.

"lulby."

Nick smiled slightly. "Oh, we better let your mom sing the lullabies. I just promised not to scare you again, remember?"

"Wan' lulby."

"I'm not much of a singer."

"LULBY!"

"Shush, shush, all right. Just remember, you asked for this. Umm… Lullaby, do I even know a lullaby?"

Victoria smiled and quietly left her son rocking the child. She only paused halfway up the stairs when she heard his voice whisper a song she'd sung to him long ago.

"Where are you going, my little one? Little one?  
Where are you going, my baby, my own?  
Turn around and you're two  
Turn around and you're four.  
Turn Around and you're a young one going out of my door.

Where are you going, my little one? Little one?  
Pigtails and petticoats, where are you going?  
Turn around and you're tiny  
Turn around and you're grown  
Turn around and you're a young wife with babes of your own.

Where have you gone, my little one? Little one?  
Where have you gone, my young one, my own?  
Turn around and you're young,  
Turn around and I'm old.  
Turn around and you're all gone and I've no one to hold.

Personal Note: I was always appalled at Nick's actions at the end of "The Night Of The Wolf." There just seemed to be a complete disregard, a carelessness for the fact that he had Julia Right next to him and in the line of fire yet got into a shootout with two men who already had their weapons pulled. I wanted him to realize that his temper and actions don't just affect him they affect the people around him, sometimes as in the case of Julia and Tommy, in devastating ways. It's something he needs to understand if he's ever going to grow. And lastly, I did not write the beautiful Lullaby, it was written by Malvina Reynolds and I first heard it when I was about five. It wasn't until I got on the internet that I was able to find it again. I did however add the third line of lyrics so that it's not just a song Nick is singing to Jordan, it's a song that is about Victoria and how her children have grown up. I've always thought that knowing you children have lives of their own must feel incredibly lonely for their parents.


	16. Chapter 16

"Hey Nick." Doc Marten studied the cowboy standing near the ranch entrance. "You don't look so good."

"I got into a fight." Nick's face was drawn and his eyes had dark circles under them.

"I heard. That bully, right? What's his name? Tep?"

"Tapp. He pushed Jordan down and she started to cry. She wasn't hurt, really. Just...toddler hurt, ya know? And when he did I just..I started hitting him, and hitting him and…." He paused for a moment. "I terrified her. I terrified Jordan. She was so scared of me, of my temper."

'That moment she was afraid of me, she saw a terrible creature. She saw a monster...someone who could hurt her. That's what she saw when she looked at me." He looked at the Doc with haunted eyes.

"All the times I've lost my temper and punched someone or started a fight or just...taken it out of someone I didn't really think of them as affecting anyone but me. I punch someone, they punch me back. I end up with a bloody nose. But it isn't really that simple, is it?" He looked at Doc Marten who shook his head slowly.

"No. No, it's not. I've always thought of an act of violence as being something like a rock that lands in a quiet pond. It sends out ripples in all directions. And you can't even see most of what happens, it all occurs under the surface. It doesn't happen in a vacuum. "

Nick ran his hands through his ragged hair. "I feel like hell."

"So, what are you going to do about it?"

Nick was silent for a minute, then looked at Doc Marten. "Can you teach me how to control my temper? I mean, really control it?"

"Come on. Let's take a walk."

**BVBVBVBVBV**

Doc waited until they had circled back towards the restocked fish pond.

"Alright, you said once that when you get angry you literally see red. right?" He started.

Nick nodded unhappily.

"When that happens, do you decide to hit someone, or does it just happen? "

"What do you mean?" Nick was baffled.

"Just that."Doc Marten probed. "Do you have a moment between when you get angry with someone and when you hit them?"

Nick considered the question.

"Yeah, usually. It may be a quick moment but it's there."

"Good. The first thing you need to do is hold onto that moment. Just hold onto it, stay on its back like one of those broncs you ride."

Nick eyed him doubtfully. "How long?"

The Doc held up a finger. "One second. Just one second. Then one second more. Then one more. Just think of it in terms of holding it for one second until that first rush, that first wave is gone. Can you do that?"

"How do I do that?" Nick was irritated. He'd hoped for something…..well, easier.

Doc paused.

"Let me see your knuckles."

"Why do you want to see my knuckles?" Nick demanded.

"Just let me see them." Doc insisted.

Nick shrugged and pulled off his gloves revealing bruises and cuts on his left hand.

Doc peered carefully. "Aren't you righthanded?"

"Yeah, so?" What did this have to do with his temper?

"Well, it looks like you hit him with your left hand, not your right hand." He pointed out.

"Yeah. Hit someone with my right hand and it hurts: hurts a lot." It made Nick wince just to think about it.

"There's your answer. When you hit that moment where you start seeing red, hit your right hand on something. Smack against your leg, or your left hand or rap it on a fence post. When you do the pain should give you something to ground you, something to concentrate on rather than on being angry."

Nick thought about it for a moment, feeling slightly more hopeful. "That makes sense."

"Alright, you're going to use that moment to pull your mind together. Instead of focusing on how mad you are, I want you to think about Jordan. Think about how frightened she was, because I guarantee that's going to give you another moment." Doc pointed out.

"Why am I doing this, though?"

"Because we want to buy you time." Doc Marten explained patiently. "We want to give you time between the moment you get angry to when you take an action about it. You see, your problem is you haven't been taking that time. You get angry and instantly react. We want to give you time to get past that first burst of anger so that you can calm down enough to ask the first important question: Is this person deliberately trying to make me mad?"

"Like that time Carl and his friends started riding me about the stupid sheep?" Nick grasped.

"Exactly. Their goal was to make you mad. What did you do?"

"Got mad. Then got beaten up." Nick said with a somewhat hangdog look on his face.

"Right. And once you can stop and consider that question you can ask the next important one. Why? Why does this person want to make you angry? Because what you want to do is decide, is literally, is this person worth fighting with, physically or verbally. I'm guessing that most of the time, once you get that far, the answer is 'no.'" Doc explained.

"What if I can't do that right away?" Nick demanded.

"That's why you're going start with the small things." Doc answered. "The next time something-anything-makes you angry, I want you to stop and ask yourself 'Is this on purpose?' Because if it's not on purpose, what's the point in getting mad about it? Chances are it won't actually solve anything."

"Start little, is what you mean?"

"That's the idea. There must be things around the ranch that frustrate you ten times a day."

"Easily." Nick snorted in agreement.

"Start with those. If you feel like you're losing your temper in any situation, try stepping back. Remember when I asked you to describe yourself as if Nick Barkley was a separate person? Try that. Ask yourself, is this person trying to purposefully make Nick Barkley mad? Give yourself a buffer so it doesn't feel so personal; make it easier to handle." Doc fell encouraged.

"Is that it?" Nick asked somewhat plaintively.

"Oh no," Doc Marten assured him "There are other things to do. This is just what we can cover today. I don't want to give you so many things to worry about they become impossible to keep up with."

Nick thought about it for a bit. He was a trifle disappointed; he supposed he was being stupid really. It wasn't as if Doc Marten could waive a magic wand and fix his temper like a fairy godmother turning a pumpkin into a carriage. The things he suggested sounded very easy, which made Nick suspect they were actually very hard. Scratch that…they HAD to be hard or he probably would already have better control of his temper.

But he liked the idea of thinking of himself, or maybe his temper as someone else, as Nicholas Jonathon Barkley, or just Jonathon. If he was getting mad just ask himself: 'Is someone trying to get Jonathon's goat and if so, why?" He could do that. He felt just a sliver of optimism.

"I'll give it a try."


	17. Chapter 17

Heath worked alongside Nick, setting posts to string fencing. Normally this was the kind of brainless job he could enjoy. He could let his body work while his mind roamed free. As a boy, his dreams were simple: a full belly, food for Mama and Hannah, a new book (because although he would have denied it at the time, he secretly loved reading even though all the other boys at the mine would have mocked him for it.)

Sometimes he imagined kicking over a rock and finding a hidden fortune for the family and he would play out an entire scenario of coming home and presenting the money to a grateful, teary eyed Mama. They would move to the grandest house in Strawberry. Mama would dress in the finest clothes; Aunt Hannah would too. Everyone in Strawberry would start calling his Mama "Ma'am" and being nice to her.

As he got older the dreams became a little more realistic: Find a better job. Earn more money to send to Mama. That sort of thing. Some wishes did come true. He had wished for enough money to buy a horse and saddle and the army had given him a small bonus when he mustered out, just enough to purchase his beloved Gal. This enabled him to get a job as a wrangler and send home a little more cash but not a huge amount.

When he first came to the Barkley's he had dreamed of being accepted as one of them and to his astonishment, it came true. Particularly once Nick came around and made it obvious to the valley that anyone who wanted to insult Heath to his face would have to go through his older brother first. Nick was kind of an all or nothing type and once he decided Heath was indeed his brother, that definitely fell into the 'all' category.

Right now, Heath's dreams had gone back to simple: Get Nick and Jarrod back to the same closeness they'd had before that whole court martial mess. They reminded him of two tom cats sitting on opposite side of a porch glaring at each other. Heath felt like knocking their heads together. It was exhausting for him; it was exhausting for Mother and Audra

They weren't currently arguing like they had been but that might change tonight. It was business meeting night and the last meeting had been fairly miserable. Nick and Jarrod were barely talking and the meeting was charged with resentment. The brothers were stiff and overly polite to each other in a way that fooled no one. Heath was considering chaining them together until they worked everything out.

Then there was Nick's current odd behavior for the last few weeks or so: He was showing an unsettling restraint. Incidents that would normally ignite a show of temper would be greeted with gritted teeth as he rapped his knuckles on something, took a deep breath and then calmly gave instructions to hands. It was nice to see him not lose his temper, but it made Heath worry that a major explosion might be coming up. Then again, maybe one wasn't. Heath tried to imagine the worst case scenario: A wrangler comes rushing up

"Nick! I accidently set the barn on fire."

Nick punches through a nearby wall, the politely responds:

"Perhaps we should put it out."

Um…nope. Not chance. Nick might not be his usual self but he also wasn't dead.

Juggling these differing thoughts in his mind, Heath decided to focus on one specific wish: Have tonight's meeting go as smoothly and quickly as possible. That seemed to be a reasonable request for God (or whichever department he delegated to evaluate the wishes of Heath Barkley and determine whether or not to fulfill them.) Heath crossed his fingers and toes and hoped for the best.

**BVBVBVBVBVBVBV**

The meeting so far was going smoothly if not wrapped in good feelings. Nick had presented his information on the ranch. Heath had outlined actions and information on the mining and timber operations. Jarrod had discussed how the money invested in the stock market was doing. All was going well when Mother asked

"Any new business?"

There was a long silence, then Jarrod stood up looking discomfited and in a halting voice said "I'd like to have more information about that irrigation system Nick proposed. I think we should re-open the discussion."

Heath was surprised, partially because there hadn't been much discussion to re-open and partially because he had gathered it was a dead issue. Why on earth had Jarrod decided to bring it up? From the dumbfounded look on Nick's face, he was equally surprised.

"The irrigation system?" He repeated blankly. "Mine? The one that I suggested?"

Jarrod nodded stiffly.

"I thought you hated the idea!" Nick blurted out.

Jarrod shrugged. "Maybe I was too hasty. I think we should re-examine it and get more information before we decide, that's all."

"I don't have all the plans on me." Nick floundered.

"Then tell us what you can." Jarrod sat backdown.

Nick pulled himself together. "Alright. Well, the problem I see is that we are wasting too much water. We're not just irrigating out crops, we're irrigating the ground all the was to the crops and losing water as a result…."

Heath, surprised, sat back and listened. Boy howdy, that divine wish fulfillment thing came through this time.

**BVBVBVBVBVBV**

"…..I mean, I couldn't believe it. Just out of the blue Jarrod suddenly brings up the whole irrigation system he wouldn't listen to before and listens to it. He even asked me for more information. I'm going to go dig up my notes tomorrow."

"I'm dying." Doc Marten groaned.

Nick chuffed unsympathetically. "Relax, just relax. Don't clutch the reigns and don't squeeze your legs. And keep your heels down." 

"I thought you said riding a horse is easy." Doc Marten bounced unhappily on the trotting horse.

"Well, it is. I mean, once you know what you're doing."

Doc Marten was on Star, a gentle, soft footed mare out of Cocoa that Nick had gifted to him after he had discovered the Doc knew how to drive a carriage but didn't know how to ride. Nick, who firmly felt it was God's intention for everyone to be able to ride as if they were part centaur, had been appalled when he realized his Doctor was unable to do so and resolved to fix that problem.

"You know if you want to kill me you could just cut my throat."

"You're not going to die from sore muscles." Nick said heartlessly.

"I'm getting off."

"You've only been riding for an hour. Ya big baby."**  
**

"It's get off or fall off." Doc pointed out.

"Fine." Nick gently pulled the lunge rope to a stop until Doc Marten all but fell out of the saddle.

"Use the stirrups." Nick scolded.

Doc Marten groaned as his feet hit the ground and he started to sit.

"Don't sit down. Walk around and stretch your muscles." Nick advised.

"I'm getting even for this." Doc Marten warned. "One day when you're not expecting it…."

Nick grinned.

"You'll thank me one day." He stroked Stars face for a moment. "Horses are wonderful creatures. Riding a horse isn't like any other feeling in the world. Did you know in Greek mythology horses were created by Poseiden? They were literally a gift from the gods."

"Just remember, divine gifts can be a blessing and a curse. Remember Cassandra? She had the gift of foresight but was cursed to never be believed. Of course, it's no usually so extreme. Usually it's just if you are gifted with something you are obliged to used it to help others. A man may be given the gift of teaching for example, but then he has a responsibility to use it."

Nick was intrigued. "Where'd you learn that?"

Doc grinned. "Divinity student. First year before I decided to switch to medical studies."

"You were going to be a preacher once?" Nick asked in fascination. He never would have taken Doc to be a preacher type. 

"I was thinking of it." Doc replied amiably.

"Can I ask you something?" Nick inquired impulsively.

Nick could feel the man studying him for a moment.

"You're going to ask me if I believe God really exists, right?"

"I-uh….. How did you know that?" Once again the Doc had been a step ahead of him.

"Up until a few months ago, everyone I saw was a war Veteran." A slightly twisted smile "Apparently nothing makes one question the existence of God like having your legs ripped from your body by your fellow man. I've heard that question a lot." 

"So, you must have an answer then, right?"

"A standard one." 

Nick waited impatiently. "Well?" 

"What difference does it make?" Doc Marten shrugged. 

"What?" Nick felt like someone had whacked him over the head with a board.

"What difference does it make whether or not God I believe God exists? I mean, that's not going to change anything, is it?"

"Uh..That's not the answer I expected." 

"Nobody expects it. That's one of the reasons I give it." 

Nick felt like he was up to his neck in mud. 

"You were gonna be a preacher. Doesn't that automatically mean you should believe in God?" 

"What I believe doesn't make a difference. God either exists-or to take the counter argument-doesn't exist whether I believe he does or not. The decision of whether or not to believe in him is strictly up to me. It certainly doesn't affect God."

"Wait a minute," Nick was starting to feel slightly indignant, "That's not what the preacher at church says." 

"Yes, but you're not asking the preacher at church, you're asking me. If there is a God, he doesn't draw his strength from men. He doesn't need men. If anything, it's the other way around. So, God's existence is independent of human beings. What I think is irrelevant-or should be-to what you think." 

"That's not an answer!" Nick said indignantly. 

"Yes, it is, it's just one you don't like. The real question isn't what I believe it's what you believe. So, tell me, do you believe in God?" 

"Well, I… Yeah, I think I do." Nick said after a minute.

Doc Marten was amused. "You think you do? This is not really a gray area, Nick. It's not a question of percentages. It's yes or no question."

"All right! Um…I believe in God, but I would like proof." 

Doc stared at Nick for a second, then burst into laughter.  
"Proof? You want proof that God exists?" 

Nick was feeling flustered.

"I'm not demanding trumpets from heaven, just the occasional small miracle here or there. An angel maybe. If there's God there must be angels, and this world could certainly use a few. So, where are they?"

With an effort Doc Martin got his laughter under control.

"Nick, do you know what you call faith backed up with cold, hard physical evidence?" 

'No." Nick said a bit sulkily. 

"SCIENCE! Let me tell you a secret. Faith isn't what you believe because you have proof. Faith is what you believe without proof. Faith is what you believe because you decide to believe it. And no one can make that decision for you, Nick. Besides, you have all the proof you need."

"What are you talking about?" 

"You want angels? You're not looking hard enough!" Doc spread his arms expansively.

"I don't understand." Why couldn't he just get a yes or no answer from the man, Nick thought crossly. 

"What do angels do?" The Doc asked.

"They protect us. Keep us from harm. Help us when we're in trouble." That was easy.

"You don't see it?" 

Nick shook his head dumbly, thinking inwardly that it was a damn good thing he was not quite as short tempered as he used to be or he possibly already would have clocked Doc Marten out of sheer frustration. 

Doc Marten grinned. "You're working way too hard. Relax. Let it float around. It'll come to you." He tied his horse to the carriage and climbed inside. "See you on Tuesday!" 

"Hey Doc!"

"Yes?"

"Make sure you bring Star again. Your gonna practice 'til you stop sitting on that horse like a sack of potatoes."

Doc Marten laughed.


	18. Chapter 18

Ino Johnston was one of the towns bums, if you were being unkind. His entire life was dedicated to getting by with as little work as needed to put his next drink down his throat. Even his name was a reflection of laziness. When the Decennial Census taker had knocked at Jack Johnston's door and asked the father what the baby's name was, the drunk had belched heartily and responded

"Damned if I know." 

The Census take, a man of phlegmatic temperment unwilling to chase a vanishing hare down a warren, had shrugged and listed the occupants as Jack Johnston father, Valentine Johnston mother and baby Ino Johnston. The rest of Ino Johnston's childhood was filled with a similar amount of effort. At age 6 his mother decided she was tired of supporting both her sot husband and her snotty nosed child and moved to San Francisco to work in an opium den.

Ino had to sneak food money from his father's pants when the man was passed out from cheap liquor. If he mis-judged his fathers' level of inebriation he received a vicious beating with a belt. With a face that already regrettably resembled a weasel, he took on even more of a resemblance by his habit of slinking everywhere. 

He became known, and relentlessly harassed for his habit of digging through garbage looking for thrown out food or clothing. He also, inevitably, acquired his father's drinking habits by age 12 and dedicated his life to proving his abhorrence to sobriety. Since he despised all work he was known to eternally search for objects to sell; and on this day had pulled an old box of his father's belongs from under the bed and dug through it looking for something-anything of value. To his astonishment, he discovered an ancient six shooter that might be worth a few bucks and decided to test it to see if it actually fired. 

So, he wandered outside his home, loaded the gun and started firing in all directions. Jarrod's attention was immediately captured when a bullet entered his office and drilled a hole through a painting he was fond of. He came outside just in time to see Ino, who had been so surprised at the kickback that he was on the ground, get up with a bloody gash on his face and resume firing. It was at just that moment that Doc Marten also left his office, ducking as he heard the gun fire several more times, before carefully approaching Johnston. 

"Hey buddy, is that thing empty now?" He asked, eyeballing the open injury on the man's face. 

Ino thought about the question with the intensity of the stupidly drunk. "Yeah." He finally said. 

"Great." Doc Marten walked carefully forward. "Let's get you stitched up and taken care of." 

Ino was horrified at the thought. "You ain't sewing no holes in me!" He declared, throwing his arms up. As he did so the final rusted bullet in the faulty gun fired and went straight through Doc Marten's chest into his heart, ricocheted off his backbone and buried itself in a balcony at a nearby hotel.

Doc Marten was dead before he hit the ground. Ino Johnston, stupid but not malicious, was shocked into sobriety for the first time in over twenty years and stood unresisting while the sheriff placed irons on him and led him to the jail, charged with murder. Six months later, a twelve year old boy who had just gotten a pen knife for his birthday and was idly hacking at the balcony found the bullet and carried it around as a good luck piece until he died in his bed 72 years later. And Jarrod had to go home and tell Nick that his Doctor and friend was dead.

**bvvbvbvbvbvbvbvb**

Jarrod and Victoria sat in the drawing room, waiting for Nick. Victoria holding a book in her hands but not reading it. Jarrod was still holding his hat and, in a rare example of nerves, was revolving it slowly in his hands; the sort of revealing habit he had tried to eliminate. They had been waiting for over an hour and time dragged slowly by. The scent of dinner was drifting through the house and on any other day they would have been hungry. They were waiting for one specific set of footsteps to enter the house, and they tightened apprehensively when the door was opened and they could hear the jingle of spurs.

"Jordan!" Nick's familiar bellow echoed. "I'm home, honey." He stepped iinto the drawing room, and his expression grew faintly wary at seeing the two waiting for him. "Evening Mother, Jarrod."

Victoria winced at the vague defensiveness in his stance.

"Nick, I need to tell you something." Jarrod started.

Abruptly Nick's expression brightened visibly and a glance over the shoulder told Victoria that Jordan, trailed by Angela, had entered the room. "How's the most beautiful little girl in the world?" Nick said happily, picking her up.

"Fly!" Jordan said. "Fly! Fly! Fly!"

"Oh you want to fly, do you?" Nick glanced at Angela for permission, then swung the toddler around in a circle as she squealed in delight.

"Nick, I need to tell you something important."

"So, tell me already. Wanna go again, Jordan?" Nick swung the little girl again, somehow carefully keeping track of his feet.

"Nick, sit down for just a moment. Please." Victoria commanded.

With a sigh, Nick put the little girl on the ground and sat on a chair, impatiently.

"Horsie! Horsie!" The little girl scrambled into his lap and he balanced her, smiling happily.

Jarrod wished there was some way to cushion the blow.

"It's Dr Marten, Nick. He was killed today."

Nick's smile vanished, and he looked blankly from Jarrod to Victoria. "Killed?" His face whitened with shock. "I don't understand. Who would kill Doc? Why would..why?"

"Ino Johnson got drunk and found an old pistol somewhere. He was firing it off and Doc got hit by one of the bullets."

There was a long silence, only punctuated by only by Jordan's cries of "Horsie! Horsie!"

"I'm sorry, Nick." Jarrod added gently.

Nick just sat there on the edge of the chair, his shoulders slumped and broken looking. "Doc didn't even carry a gun for self-defense."

Jordan scrambled down from his lap and started pulling his hand in the direction of the door.

"Nick, if you want to talk?" Victoria offered, hoping he would accept.

"No." Nick, looking 100 years old, got tiredly to his feet and let Jordan pull him in the direction of the door. "I'll be alright."

"Nick-" She tried again.

""Don't hold supper for me." Nick said, following the little girl outside. There was a moment of awkward silence, then Angela followed behind and the door closed.

**BVBVBVBVBVBV**

Silently Nick saddled Easy and gave Angela a lesson, before placing Jordan on her back and leading her around the paddock. Only when the little girl was tired and asleep did they adjourn to the barn to groom and feed the gentle mare.

"Ah'm sorry about yo friend." Angela offered finally. "Ah knows he meant a lot ta ya."

"yeah." He said finally. "Yeah, a friend like the Doc comes along once, maybe twice in a lifetime. He understood me." He bit his lip. "I could talk to him and.." Nick could feel his control slipping and turned his back to her. He felt her hand on his shoulder and was undone.

"I feel like everything may come apart now. H…" she waited patiently while he groped for words. "He was my friend. I could tell him anything, anything! And he wouldn't judge me for it. He wouldn't think me less of a person; he wouldn't tell me I was acting like a bull in a china shop, or tell me I was wrong. A lot of times I was wrong. I was being hot headed, or stupid, but he never said that. Doc would just ask me questions about what I was feeling or thinking and as I answered them I'd realize…. There was a better way to handle something, or I'd realize what I'd just said or done wasn't right. _I'd_ realize. No one telling me I was wrong, just me answering Doc Martin an' understanding it for myself. Like he was teaching me how to stop an' think."

He stopped and gasped for breath, feeling a sharp pain in his throat as fought against the tears that were slipping out of his control, falling down his face as he lowered his head in shame. 

"I'm so selfish. I'm such a selfish bastard, Angela. It's not just that I lost a friend." He sucked in a painful breath past the knot of grief choking his throat. "I lost a teacher. I lost someone…who was helping me figger things out, important things. Things I have to know to keep going. And I don't know how I'm going to do it on my own." 

He gasped for breath again, drowning in a freezing well of sorrow and grief, then felt warm hands cupping his face, pulling his head up to meet liquid brown eyes as pained as his own. 

"Won' be on youh own. Ah'll help ya. We figger things out, tagether." 

He grasped her hands feeling their warmth under his icy fingers and sensed the heat kindle something inside him. So beautiful, and he wondered why he hadn't noticed before. Gold glinted hazel eyes met gentle brown ones and his head started ringing as his world narrowed down to the face in front of him. 

A soft clearing of the throat made them both jump, and Angela moved guiltily away. 

"Mr. Nick, your Mother is looking for you." Silas' voice was carefully neutral, and Nick realized with a jolt that the man disapproved. Odd how that hurt.

"Ah hav 'ta finish up in th' kitchen." Angela hurried away with Jordan in her arms. Silas, his expression chillingly blank, followed her, leaving Nick awash in so many emotions it took hours for him to sort out.

BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBV

_Journal Entry_

_I Love Angela._


	19. Chapter 19

Their romance was different from any Nick had previously experienced. They didn't make love or engage in the quick fumbling intercourse that so often sours clandestine romance into grimy, joyless affairs. Angela was too knowledgeable of the pains awaiting bastard mulatto children to allow what would have been a selfish indulgence on her part. Nick was less informed but not, as Angela thought, totally ignorant of how cruelly people punished children for a parent's sins. What he knew of Heath's childhood was always in the back of his mind.

The circumspection was not entirely voluntary; they were partially restrained by a lack of opportunity. Silas had not uttered a word but maintained a chilly disapproval. He kept Angela under a watchful gaze that limited both chance meetings and planned ones. Nick was also hampered from a different source. It seemed to him that no sooner would he begin contemplating a possible rendezvous then some unexpected problem with ranch or livestock would arise, or an employee would appear with pressing business that needed to be attended to in exactly the location he wished to meet Angela. Cowpunchers whom Nick would have sworn spent their days snoozing away in a corner became irritatingly conscientious about every chore. The ranch, once a source of pride and delight, had become a trap limiting his every move. 

Only when he was alone with Angela did the sensation of slow suffocation slip away. Time eased painlessly past as he held her against his chest, feeling her heart beating next to his own. In the shadows of haylofts and under hanging branches their fingers ran over contours of cheek and jaw until each found the other's face more familiar than their own. Breathless kisses accompanied by a rush of blood warmed them until they had to pull away, lips bruised, skin tingling, bodies aching from pleasure promised but denied.

When the passion became too intense and threatened to overwhelm their fading control, they sated their thirst for intimacy with words, revealing untouched dreams and long buried pieces of the past. They whispered thoughts left unsaid to all others and delighted in the secret knowledge offered and accepted. Nick reveled in the sensuality of speech and the unexpected eroticism of restraint.

_ Journal Entry_

_Angela Barkley. Mrs. Angela Barkley. Angela and Nicholas Barkley invite you to the birthday of their son, Jonathon Thomas Barkely. ANGELA even the last part of her name sounds like a song. Ange-La la la_

_Alright, settle down. This is a journal; this is serious. This is not supposed to be a soppy love letter it just that I LOVE SAYING HER NAME! She's amazing. She's the most extraordinary woman I've ever known. She can't read, but she understands Tennyson better than I do. She's uneducated but she's smarter than most of the people I know. Her skin is caramel but she outshines Hester the way the sun outshines the stars._

_Stop it. Get back to work. Write something serious. Write something that you've learned about yourself. I've learned that just talking to Angela is more exhilarating than dancing with the 10 most beautiful women in the valley. I love talking to her. I love listening to her. I love the way she tells me things and the way she listens when I tell her things. And somehow, and I can't figure how, somehow just holding her close for an hour is better than any night I've ever spent with any woman in my entire life. Come to think of it, ANYTHING with Angela is better than sleeping with any girl I've ever known_

_._  
_It's funny but I keep comparing her to Hester. Me and Hester…we were just instant…. Well bedmates to be honest. We were between the sheets the night we met and didn't slow down until we got to Stockton. Hester was incredible. She was passionate and inventive and Oh My what a kisser. I would have done anything for her. Hester had me by the short hairs._

_I didn't realize it then, but the whole time I was with her I was jealous of every man she smiled at. When I went after Heath. Aw Hell. In my heart of hearts I knew he hadn't laid a hand on her. She'd been flirting with him and every other man in camp all night long and I was just looking for a reason to take it out on someone and… I guess I just seized the excuse._

_Jesus I can be a stupid, cretinous SLUGHEAD! I could have killed him or maimed him and all for nothing! For my stupid stupid temper! And what did Heath do? He saved me from myself. He saved me from at the very least spending months in a wheelchair and at most from being crippled for life. I don't deserve a brother like Heath. I never even said "Thank You." My God I'm a selfish ingrate._

**BVBVBVBVBVBVBV**

"I need to do something for Heath." 

"Wha?" Jarrod groggily struggled to determine what emergency had sent Nick bouncing into the room to jostle him awake in the middle of the night. "What's wrong with Heath?" 

"Nothing. I just need to do something for him." 

"Oh, for God's sake, Nick, it's the middle of the night. Buy him flowers, send him chocolates; just let me go back to sleep." 

"Jarrod, this is important!" Nick emphasized his point by bouncing on the side of the bed. 

Jarrod recognized the tone. It was Nickspeak for "i want an answer and you're not resting till i get one." Damn. 

"All right, all right!" Jarrod turned up the light next to the bed. "Start at the beginning: What's wrong with Heath?" 

"Nothing!" Nick was exasperated with his brother's slowness. "He's fine. He's great. He's a great brother."

Nick smiled, confident he had made his point. 

Jarrod waited patiently until he realized no more information was forthcoming. "AND?" he nudged. 

"EXACTLY!" Nick beamed. Jarrod groaned and contemplated the logistics involved in killing his brother and burying the body where it wouldn't be found.

"And what? What do you need from me?" Jarrod pondered the virtues of his mother's rose garden as a possible burial space before discarding the idea. Nickmulch would probably kill the flowers out of sheer perversity. 

"I need to do something for him, something that would really mean a lot to him. Something to show him I'm glad he's my brother." 

Jarrod signed, the last dregs of a very pleasant dream slipping sadly away. Alright, let me think." he mused. "What does he like? Let's see...there's horses-" 

"He has Charger." Nick interrupted. 

"..weapons-" 

"You gave him a gun, already." 

"..jewelry-" 

"He hates Jewelry." 

"..clothes-" 

"Oh, another pair of tan pants; he'll be thrilled." 

"Nick, would you shut up while I'm thinking?" Jarrod snapped.

"You're thinking of the wrong things." Nick pointed out. "It can't just be something. It has to be special; something that would mean a lot to him." 

Jarrod's patience was exhausted. "Well then you figure it out and let me get back to sleep." He turned off the light and buried him head under the pillow. 

"Jarrod?." It was the little brother tone that Jarrod could never quite ignore. 

"If you want to give him something special, do something for him; something he'd like to do but can't for some reason." Jarrod mumbled from the downside of the pillow. 

There was a long moment of silence, then Jarrod was seized from above and lifted a foot of the bed in an exuberant embrace.

"Jarrod, you're brilliant." Nick released his hold and Jarrod dropped to the mattress so hard his head hurt. "Tell everyone I'll be back in a few days!" Feet clattered across the floor and Jarrod wondered how Nick could make so much noise in his socks. "Sleep well!" 

A hurled pillow hit the door as it closed. 

"I was doing that when you woke me up!" Jarrod bellowed. 

There was a thumping noise from the wall of Heath's room. 

"Jarrod, I'm trying to sleep." Heath groused. "Show some consideration, will you!" 

Jarrod groaned.

**BVBVBVBVBVBVBVBV**

Heath rode the neglected road to Strawberry, noticing a small colony of rabbits heading in the opposite direction.

_Even the animals wanted to leave this town._

He was eager to get there and had left way before morning, in order to arrive after dark. He had worried he might have to delay the trip, which was timed to match his Mama's birthday since Nick had unexpectedly vanished a few days ago. At first Heath had been dismayed and a little more than angry, thinking it was sheer carelessness on Nick's part. He hadn't thought Nick was doing it on purpose, though. That just wasn't Nick's style. 

Heath had made that mistake once before, right after he came to the ranch, about efowuns. Now Heath had been a hand long enough to do every job a cowhand could be put to. He had done a drag line, a wrangler, a line rider…you name it he had done it. So he had been taken aback when he had been assigning duties to the surly, suspicious ranch hands and seen a fellow around 40 feet away climb on a horse and ride away without getting any instructions first. 

"Hey! Hey bub!" Heath had called after the man. 

"Oh you don't need to bother with him. He's an efowun. He's already talked to Nick." 

"An Efowun?" 

"Yep." 

"Oh." 

"Nick takes care of 'em" 

"I see." Actually Heath didn't see. He'd never once heard of an efowun. Apparently it was some special job that the Barkley ranch had. Heath figured he'd just wait for Nick to fill him in. Except that Nick didn't.

At least once a week or so Heath would come out to discover that the efowun was back, frequently was talking to Nick, and Nick himself wasn't bothering to explain. Not that Heath ever brought the subject up. About the third time he noticed an efowun without getting an explanation from Nick about what the man did, he gritted his teeth and decided he wasn't going to give Nick the satisfaction of being begged for information.

Worse yet, he started to notice that there wasn't just one efowun, there were several. Different men, different horses, often talking to Nick before they left in the morning to do whatever it was that an efowun did. None of them ever once asked Heath what he wanted them to do, and Nick never once explained what their exact function was. 

It didn't take long for Heath to end up in a constant state of bubbling anger at Nick for withholding this information from him. It had finally built up close to a boiling point with Heath ready to punch Nick in the face for this stupid game when Heath went out early one morning and noticed an efowun he'd seen before saddling up by the gate and instantly decided to take the opportunity to find out what these mysterious hands did on the ranch.

"Hey You!" He called out, striding over with what he hoped was a "ranch foreman stride" he had noticed Nick use. It was somewhat disconcerting to have the hand turn with a large, friendly smile. 

"Morning!" The man said. "I'm Bill Clay. I've seen you from a distance. You're Heath, right?" 

"That's right." Heath hadn't expected the man to be so friendly. "I saw ya over here and I figured I find out what you're instructions are for today." 

"Instructions?" The Bill seemed puzzled. "I'm heading to the Sully ranch near Sacramento." 

"Nick's send you to Sacramento?" Heath asked. 

"Nick? No, Nick's not sending me anywhere. I work there." 

Heath felt like a rug had been pulled from under his feet. 

"You don't work here? But I've seen you here before." 

"Well, yeah. Nick said anytime I was passing by I could stay for a bit." 

"So….you're not an efowun?" 

"Son, what in God's name is an efowun? I'm just an old friend of Nicks-are you all right, son?" 

To which the honest answer from Heath would have been "NO, I'm not alright, I'm a blithering idiot who has spent weeks getting all riled about about mysteriously named employees that didn't exist because there weren't no such thing as an efowun there were F-O-N's-Friends of Nick's and here I've been in a sulking around thinking that Nick was hiding something that he wasn't."

Heath didn't actually say any of that, he just apologized for delaying the man, wished him well and left, hoping the humiliated blush on his face wasn't too obvious. Which it turned out it actually was since Nick passed him a moment later and asked him if he was having trouble with the heat and maybe he should sit down for a while. 

The upside of this had been an important lesson: Nick wasn't going to do anything malicious to trip him up. That didn't mean Nick wouldn't be careless, or demanding or just plain thoughtless but he wouldn't maliciously hold back information or do anything else on purpose that he thought would hurt Heath 

So, while a small part of Heath had wondered for a while if Nick would be gone long enough to disrupt his trip, he was mostly confident that his brother would return in time for Heath to pack up Gal with his gear. He always rode the Indian pony for these visits; it seemed appropriate somehow to return to his mother's grave on the same pony he had ridden away from it after her death. Plus, he loved riding her, enjoying her gentle paces. 

Not that Heath didn't love Charger. Charger was the kind of ride Heath had never dared dream of owning. The stallion was like Gods' perfect horse and every time Heath saw a new foal with his mount's perfect bloodline he glowed with pride. It was all the more sweet for being a surprise. Heath had ridden the stud when he searched out Nick's hiding place during that whole dreadful rabies incident, wanting to show him how well the horse was coming along.

"You've done a great job, Heath. How much longer do you think it'll before he's ready to work?" Nick had asked.

"Another month, maybe two and you should have your new horse."

"My new horse? That's not my new horse that's your horse."

"Mine? I thought you were buying him to replace Cocoa."

Heath gaped in disbelief.

Nick was indignant. "Coco doesn't need replacing! But you need a horse in addition to Gal for long drives and the moment I saw this fella I knew he was yours. He's gonna be the fastest runner and best cutting horse in the valley. He's perfect for you."

"Mine?" Heath could scarcely believe it.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Good Lord, Heath, look at the bill of sale. It shows you're the new owner."

Heath had been astonished and delighted and overwhelmed It had been the best gift anyone ever gave him, and Nick hadn't given it in a 'Thanks for covering for me Heath, why don't you take the horse as payment' kind of way. It had been in a 'This is my brother and he's going to have the best horse on the ranch-maybe the whole valley' kinda way.

It was one of things that Nick just did...like finding out Heath had wanted toy trains as a boy and buying him an entire set that took up a whole room even before they spent hours together building props, like small houses and hills and trees and tiny little people waiting at the stations. Or discovering Heath was embarrassed at his lack of pool skills and paying a pool shark to give him lessons. Or buying him a ridiculously oversize pair of spurs that jingled loudly and matching it with a bell covered cowboy hat that jingled along and giving it to Heath at Christmas, something so preposterous that Heath had simply burst into laughter. He thought about those things and felt ashamed for even thinking Nick would delay Heaths' visit.

He followed a regular pattern on these visits. He spent around a day clearing the small graveyard where his mother and a few others were buried, pulling on the long, tangled weeds and yanking up dandelions, then collecting flowers on the second day and eating lunch there with a fragile Hannah.

He had tried planting flowers on Mama's grave only to have them die since they required ongoing care that he wasn't able to provide, much to his frustration. So, he satisfied himself with putting a new collection of flowers each time. For a few, passing days it became the only bright spot in Strawberry before the weeds recovered the land.

After he had been accepted as a Barkley, he had toyed with the idea of having a whole mausoleum built before realizing it would look ridiculous. His Mama would have been embarrassed at such a display. He had a proper headstone marker placed for her and came buy twice a year to provide upkeep on her grave. It was the only thing he could do for her now.

He let Gal set the pace, and entered the small, grubby town as evening fell. He stabled his horse and knocked on Hannah's door.

"Heath!" She held her arms out and he hugged her, pleased to see she had put on some weight. He made there were regular deliveries of food for her, deliveries that included yarn and anything else she needed to keep busy.

"Sit down child. I was just going to start dinner. I made your favorite, rabbit stew and collard greens with fresh bread. You sit down and tell me everything."

"Not much to tell. Everything is going along."

She peered at him with sharp eyes.

"I don't believe that. You look like a man with troubles, son. You having trouble with the Barkley's."

"No, that's fine. You should see the horse Nick gave me; next time I come I'll bring him."

"Well what is it then?"

"I guess you could say it's troubles IN the Barkley's."

And he told her; told her about Jarrod's mock court martial and how it had disastrously affected Nick. Told about Jarrod making a point of staying around the ranch to help but how he only ended up clashing with Nick over a domain that had always been Nick's alone. How Nick was getting angry over having his plans and ideas voted down by the Jarrod/Victoria/Audra voting block as he called it while being forced to enact ideas he hated.

How Nick seemed to be less and less interested in the ranch, and spent all that time talking to Doctor Marten, which angered and irritated Jarrod for reasons Heath couldn't understand. He explained that all through dinner and afterwards as he repaired Hannah's rocking chair and she sat quietly and listened.

Hannah thought for a long moment.

"Does Jarrod realize what's happening?"

Heath sighed.

"I don't think so. I think Jarrod is trying to help, but he's doing it the wrong way. He's trying to get closer to Nick and he's only pushing him away and that makes Jarrod angry. And Jarrod's smart; I don't think he would normally...He's just too close to see it. And he can get tunnel vision as bad as Nick can; I've tried to explain it to him and he and just can't seem to understand he needs to give Nick some breathing room and stop interfering in ranch business."

Hannah nodded.

"What do you think Nick will do if things stay like this?"

Heath turned over the question unhappily. "I don't know. You know, I never thought Nick might leave the ranch but lately I wonder." He thought for a moment. "Hannah, I don't wanna lose one of my brothers."

bvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvbvb

Heath took the usual tools- rake, digging shovel and weed puller-as he went to his mother's grave the next morning, prepared for a long hot day. As he approached the headstones he was awash in first surprise, then confusion. The graveyard didn't need work, it was perfect, with no weeds, no dandelions, nothing overgrown. And his mama's grave was covered with a blanket of flowers, newly planted but watered and thriving in the summer sun. He was still taking in the sight when he heard light footsteps behind him. A small, solemn boy stood there with much more battered version of the tools Heath was carrying.

"You here to mess up ever'thin?" He asked worriedly.

"Nope. I came here to take care of things."

A distressed look crossed the boys' face.

"But I been taking care of ever'thin real keerful like that man told me! I come up ever day, un water them flowers un pull the weeds jest like he said. He don' have no cause to take my job away." He looked almost tearful.

"Stop. Wait a minute. I'm not here to take your job." Heath reassured the boy. The kid reminded him of himself at that age. Nothing would have been worse than to lose a job that helped feed the family. "I promise. I've been coming up here every year to take care of my Mama's grave." He pointed at the flowers. "Did you do that?"

"The boy nodded. "Me an Nick. We spent a whole day finding the prettiest flowers and moving 'em here. I'm supposed to water 'em ever day and keep 'em pretty. You can see, they're real pretty."

"They sure are. So, Nick was here?"

"You noam? He were up here last week an' we spent all day cleanin ever'thin up. We even washed down all them stones an' got the moss offer 'em. I werked real hard 'un he even said so. That's why he giv me a job. Pay's me $30 a month. My Mama says most adults don't get that much."

"What's the job?" Heath asked curiously.

"I'm supposed to come up here ever day an take care of ever'thn and make it look all nice an' pretty and not let them flowers die 'cause someone special is bury'd thar. "

Heath sat down. 'Someone special is buried there,' that's what Nick had told the boy. He'd said that about Heath's Mama, and the thought put a huge lump in his throat. Heath looked at the flowers and the clean lines of the graveyard and wondered why he hadn't thought of this himself.

"Mister, you gonna set there long? I got werk ta do."

Heath pull himself together.

"I'll help you. And then we can split the best picnic lunch in the valley"

"Nick took me ta dinner when he was here. Fed me breakfast, too. I was skeered though, when I seen ya that he'd jest up an fired me without tellin me fust."

"Oh, that wouldn't happen." Heath reassured the boy. "He wouldn't do that to an efowun."


	20. Chapter 20

They lay on a blanket in the field counting the stars, his arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"What ya gonna do abou' th' bull?"

"I don't know. Build a stronger pen, I guess." He sighed.

She could feel his fingers running over her palms and she blushed at the callouses on her hands.

"Need's to file 'em." She whispered.

"File what?" Nick asked.

"Them work spots, file 'em down and put crème on 'em so they hands don't be so hard."

"There's nothing wrong with your hands." Nick said, honestly confused. He couldn't quite figure out how he could be thinking about making love to her and she could start talking about her hands.

"They not lady's hands." She whispered. "I seen them in town, them ladies in shops. Hands so smooth, an' white an' soft. They pulls gloves on, an' they slide over th' fingers so quick and easy. Don't catch on rough spots, don't cover scars, knuckles all small an' an' " she groped for a word she'd read recently. "Refined. Pretty hands. Sof' like feathers. Perfect as li'l doves."

There was a moment of silence in the dark.

"Useless." Nick said.

"What you mean?"

"Their hands; they're useless. They're…." He thought about it for a moment. "Did you ever look at Mother's hands?"

Angela blushed, because she had noticed Victoria Barkley's hands and been surprised by the multitude of tiny scars that told of hard use.

"I never…I didn't take no notice-"

"We try to keep her away from the hard work, so her hands are softer now but she used to have callouses and rough spots. She had a place on her thumb that was always getting blistered. She put some lotion on every day so the back of her hands were always soft, but her palms had these rough spots. To me it always meant she could do everything."

'I remember when I was learning how to rope a calf, and I got these blisters and callouses on my thumb and the edges of my fingers from throwing the rope. When I saw them, they looked familiar, they looked right but I didn't know why. Then it struck me: Mother had those exact same callouses; she'd had them for years. They weren't just rough spots of skin, they were a code spelling out what she could do. Each blister, each callous was like a badge of knowledge.

'She used to...She'd come in to say good night. Sometimes I'd be almost asleep when she came in but she had a habit, she would run her hand over my forehead-maybe to check for a fever, maybe just to get my hair out of my eyes-her palm always felt so strong. Then she'd do it again with the back of her hand and she was so gentle; her hand was so soft. That's Mother. Strong but soft. Like your hands."

Angela smiled in darkness. 'He likes my hands' The thought unfolded as wonderfully surprising as a gift.

'Those 'ladies' can keep their pale, useless hands." He said. "I'd rather hold yours. They're strong, they're full of knowledge. "

A gurgle of laughter rose in her throat. "But not pale." She giggled

"Oh no," he pulled her closer in the dark. "Definitely not pale."

**BVBVBVBVBVBVBV**

Through some act of fate that Jarrod had always considered almost cosmically ironic, Doc Martens office was almost directly across the street from his law practice. It had been, naturally, closed after the Doctors murder and Jarrod had learned through the grapevine that the Doctors surviving family member had not sold the practice to any of the other physicians in town.

So two weeks later, while Jarrod was unlocking his office in the morning and noticed an unexpected movement in closed practice, he felt obliged to make certain no one was breaking into the office and rummaging thru confidential patient files, including his brothers.

There didn't appear to be any broken glass, or signs of an illicit entry and so Jarrod concluded it was safe enough to simply walk into the office.

"Hello?" He called out.

A shadowed figure jerked upright in the adjoining room, somehow giving the impression of being deeply affronted strictly by their physical bearing.

"Excuse me!" The voice that answered was a surprising feminine alto. "There happens to be a sign on the door that reads **CLOSED.**"

The speaker came into the light and revealed herself to be a tallish, business like woman with burning red hair, green eyes and an unnervingly determined chin.

"My apologies." Jarrod felt a sudden need to assure her he meant no offense. He had the distinct impression that if he didn't do so she was quite capable of physically ejecting him from the building. "I'm Jarrod Barkley. I have the office across the street, and I was concerned that someone was breaking in."

"Ah." The alto voice softened somewhat. "That was very kind of you. Thank You." There was an awkward pause. "I'm Dr. Agatha Marten. Jeptha was my brother and I was ….." She trailed off as she looked around the office with a pained expression.

"Of course. I'm very sorry for your loss. He was my brother's Doctor and Nick thought very highly of him." Jarrod took a closer look at the physician.

Agatha Marten-DR Agatha Marten-looked nothing like her brother. Jeptha Marten had been all sharp points and angles, as if his body was conforming to his tongue. He had been, in a boyish kind of way, downright homely. Agatha Marten, on the other hand, was….well _not_. She wasn't quite beautiful, but she was striking, and gave the impression of an iron backbone. One thing she did share with her brother was an aura of intense observation and keen intellect.

A look of grief crossed her face. "I can't quite believe he's gone; that he was shot to death. Jeptha hated guns, you know. He hated all kinds of violence. He wouldn't even go hunting."

Jarrod felt for her. He may not have been wildly enthused about her brother but he knew how he'd feel if one of his brothers had been cut down so early.

"You know if you need any help packing up everything and send it back to your home-"

"Philadelphia." She said absently. "Woman's Hospital of Philadelphia."

"Philadelphia." He said dutifully. "I'll be happy to-"

"I don't think so." Agatha's absent look had been replaced by a more thoughtful one.

"Don't think so what?" Jarrod asked cautiously.

"I don't think I'm going back to Philadelphia. I checked you know; there is not a single female physician in the city of Stockton. There are only 2 in the entire state of California." She stared at him with narrowed, almost accusatory eyes.

"I did not know that." Jarrod felt oddly defensive, as if he personally was to blame for the overwhelmingly masculine concentration of Doctors. "I'm sure they'll be happy to welcome you-"

"They don't have to welcome me; they'll just have to get used me." There was that determined chin again. Jarrod abruptly felt sorry for anyone who got in Agatha Marten's way; and decided to make certain he wasn't one of them.

"Well, I've leave you to get on with, whatever you were doing." He fumbled for words slightly as he backed out of the office. "If there's anything I can do to help-"

"There is one thing."

Jarrod paused, hoping it was quick and painless. He wasn't certain he was up to an extended visit with the good Doctor.

"I'm moving into the apartment above the surgery so I have a place to stay but," She looked slightly embarrassed. "The simple fact is that while every other young woman was learning the intricacies of cooking, I was studying anatomy. I'm afraid I can't cook to save my life. I can carve a turkey, I can't however, baste a turkey. My stomach is quite …picky and I need to know the safest places in town to eat. '

"When I arrived last night I mentioned that at least there was a café nearby and the station master told me to avoid it at all costs. If you know of a good restaurant or place to eat?"

Instantly Jarrod felt better. He not only knew of a good café he knew about the _best_ café and restaurants in town. Escorting her to lunch would give him a perfect opportunity to size up and quietly evaluate a physician who might eventually be needed for his family. The secondary thought, that he would be spending time with one of the most attractive and fascinating women he had met in some time, passed through his mind so fleetingly that he didn't really notice it.

"As a matter of fact, Doctor, I'm going to one of them today. Would you like me to drop by around noon? My treat."

"Noon would be perfect. I insist on paying my share, however."

Jarrod blinked.

"Very well. Noon. Until then, Doctor."

It wasn't until he was halfway through drawing up a tort that he realized she reminded him of Mother.

**BVBVBVBVBVBV**

Despite her statement to the contrary, Jarrod had halfway expected Agatha Marten to clean up her brothers office, dispose of his belongings and return to Philadelphia; a place which, she tartly pointed out, actually required physicians to be licensed professionals, unlike California which demanded ship pilots be licensed but allowed anyone who claimed to be a doctor to hang up a shingle. Instead, she had indeed decided to stay in Stockton, lobby for the state to required physician licensing and open her own practice.

It was very different than her brother's practice. Agatha Marten specialized in treating women. This had been in shrewd move on her part as she instantly obtained 50% of the population of Stockton as possible patients, unlike other Doctors who had to spend years building their practice. Jarrod had been surprised at the large number of women who preferred a female Doctor, although he supposed he wouldn't have been if he'd ever bothered to think about it.

She also lowered her prices for the less prosperous ladies, thus helping those who desperately needed treatment but couldn't always afford it. All in all, her practice was busy, but not so busy, Jarrod had discovered over the course of several months, that she couldn't stop for lunch around the same time every day. So, Jarrod, without really thinking about it, had taken to escorting her to 'the better places to eat' every noon.

He didn't really think too much about it, he simply incorporated it into his daily routine. Had he stopped to examine things more closely he would have seen Agatha Marten had become a part of his routine in more ways than one. If his day was broken down piece by piece it would look something like this:

Wake Up

Eat Breakfast

Go to Stockton

Stop by to greet Dr Marten before work

Work for a few hours

Wander by Dr Martens' office to check on her morning.

Go back to work

Have lunch with Dr Marten

Work

Drop by Agatha's office in the afternoon to chat a few minutes.

Work a few hours

Stop by Agatha's office to see how her day had gone.

Go Home

Eat Dinner while thinking about how California needed to license physicians like Agatha said.

Work a few more hours at home but spend part of it thinking about how he really needed to visit Philadelphia at least once to see the sights Agatha talked about. He had always wanted to go there any way and it was, after all, the cradle of our country.

Go to Sleep

Repeat.

It was a schedule that developed so slowly that he didn't notice how much everything was now revolving around Agatha Marten. He simply become vaguely aware that his favorite color of eyes was green, his favorite color of hair was red and maybe he should have been a doctor, not a lawyer.

It wasn't until he was walking past his secretary one morning and she raised her eyebrows and said, rather than asked:

"Going to go see the pretty Doctor again, eh?"

That he was hit smack in the face with the possibility that he was…. Intrigued by? Attracted to? Infatuated? In Love? with Agatha Marten. His mind froze and he literally backed away from the door and retreated into his office.

Because Jarrod Barkley had no plans to be intrigued by, attracted to, infatuated or in love with any woman much less Agatha Marten. Or even if he was perhaps intrigued or attracted or infatuated he definitely wasn't in_ love_ with Agatha Marten.

Furthermore he didn't like green eyes or red hair, never wanted to be a Doctor, didn't care about California's need to license physicians and hated-_hated_\- Philadelphia even though he had always wanted to go and it was, after all, the cradle of our country.

With these thoughts impressed firmly in his mind he worked straight through the morning, lunch and afternoon until he was ready to leave in the evening and was completely unprepared to see Doctor Marten sitting alone in the waiting room.

Stubbornly, Jarrod reminded himself he was not at all attracted to her and gave her his best professionally courteous but personally indifferent expression.

"Dr Marten, Is there something I can do for you?"

She looked slightly confused. "Dr Marten? I thought I was Agatha."

Jarrod cleared his throat. "Well, it occurred to me that I'd never done you the courtesy of asking if I could call you by your first name. Dr Marten just seemed more appropriate."

She smiled in sudden relief. "Certainly you can call me Agatha. We've spent enough time together."

"That's good to know, Thank You." There was an awkward pause that lasted around a million years. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Her smile faltered as his professional expression remained in place.

"You didn't show up for lunch. I was wondering if anything was wrong."

"No, nothing. It's just that I've basically shown all the best eating places in town. There really aren't any spots you haven't tried already. You should be fine alone."

"Oh." There was genuine hurt in her eyes and Jarrod felt like a beast. Agatha took a deep, careful breath before speaking with absolute control.

"Well I appreciate your courtesy, and the time you've spent showing me around town Mr. Barkley. I hope you have a good evening." And she turned to leave.

"There is one more place." To his complete horror, Jarrod heard his voice speaking without any authorization from his brain whatsoever. "Our house. Sunday dinner is our main meal of the week. Not our only meal of course. We have breakfast and lunch. Especially breakfast."

He was_ babbling_. He was actually physically babbling!

"Breakfast is an important meal. In fact, you could argue that it's THE most important meal of the day. Skip breakfast and by mid-morning you feel weak and it's hard to concentrate and-"

He couldn't believe what he was listening to. Jarrod Barkley didn't get flustered by women. Jarrod Barkley didn't get flustered by anyone. His words were always calm and carefully considered before he spoke them. He never said _anything_ without stopping to think about the possible effect first. Yet here he was, yammering on about breakfast in an uncontrolled stream of words that made him want to stuff his fists in his mouth.

Agatha was giving him an extremely strange look.

"Did you just invite me over for Sunday Dinner?"

"Yes?" Jarrod's heart was beating so wildly that he wondered if she could hear it. "You can meet my family and-"

"I accept."

"Great!" They stared at each other for another million years before Agatha prompted

"I have a patient to see in the morning. Is 1:00 all right?"

"1:00 is perfect." Jarrod assured her, then bit his tongue before he started babbling again.

"Good. I'll take my carriage. I look forward to it." Another strange look. "Goodnight, Jarrod."

"Goodnight, Agatha"

He waited until she was a good 20 feet away before he smacked himself in the head.

_IDIOT!_


	21. Chapter 21

Jarrod was nervous, a state his family rarely saw him in, and thus he was the absolute center of attention as he straightened and re-straightened the plates on the table, made an unsuccessful attempt to fold the napkins into swans, and mortally offended Silas by anxiously examining the silverware for spots and tarnish.

This girl must be something special, Victoria thought, leaving her torn between opposing feelings of hope and dread; because honestly, her children's success rate with the opposite sex was somewhere between bad and nonexistent. 

Jarrod had found a perfectly wonderful girl, only to lose her tragically before they had been married a month. 

Audra had caught the eye of close friend's son who was less interested in courting women than attempted rape. Her next potential beau had been a criminal. 

Heath had been interested in one girl whose father openly despised him. Other than that he appeared to be a magnet for unstable women with criminal tendencies.

All of these were merely drops in the bucket compared to Nicks' truly dismal record: One girl who was a member of a family of mass murderers, another girl was a Mexican anarchist who arrived at the ranch solely to steal jewelry. The next was a lovely young thing if you discounted her dangerous bounty hunter spouse. Then there was Hester, who had nearly gotten Nick killed with her wandering eye…..Victoria was almost certain there were more but it was too exhausting to try to remember them all. 

The only family that she knew of that seemed to have worse luck in the romance department was Ben Cartwright's boys in Nevada. She had given up keeping track years ago but was aware the potential spouses of Cartwrights had an appalling habit of dying young, particularly any girl favored by his boy Joseph, whose proximity to any girl could only be described as deadly. 

Ben had once sent her a cheerful telegram telling her he and his family would be arriving on the next day's evening train and suggesting that Little Joe and Audra should meet. In a near panic, Victoria had immediately packed Audra off to San Francisco under the pretense of a shopping spree, greeted Ben with the sad news that they had just missed her daughter, guested them handsomely at the mansion for the night and watched them depart the next day with a feeling of scarcely diverted disaster.

So, when Jarrod invited Agatha for Sunday, Victoria tried to be cautiously optimistic: After all, if they threw enough potential spouses against the wall surely one had to stick. Her hopes dimmed slightly when she found out his guest was the sister of the late, lamented Doc Marten, before deciding that perhaps his untimely murder disaster proofed the relationship. 

And so, with a grim determination to like this girl no matter what, Victoria awaited Agatha Martens' arrival with fists so tightly clenched with nervousness that she gouged small crescents in the palms of her hands. 

As they got closer and closer to 1:00 PM with no sign of the woman's arrival Jarrod started to look as nervous as a 'long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs" to borrow a phrase from Heath. At 12:58 Jarrod abruptly leaped up and exclaimed:

"This is no damn good! Something must have happened to her!" only to be cut off the distant sound of hooves clopping up the drive. The rest of the family exhaled a sigh of relief, offset by a slight huffing noise from the still disjointed nose of the family butler.

As Jarrod hurried out the door to greet his dinner guest, Victoria took a moment to send up a heartfelt prayer to whatever deity mocked the Barkley's every attempt at romance to please, PLEASE just this once give them a break. With that the Barkley's gathered together in the seating room, awaiting introductions and determined to like Jarrod's girl no matter what. Much to their delight, no effort was involved in doing so. 

Agatha and Victoria immediately developed a mutual respect, and the Doctors somewhat intense charisma soon roped Victoria into agreeing to help lobby the state for Physician licensing. Agatha greeted Audra with an offer to provide whatever medical needs the orphanage required free of charge and mentioned she could drop by next Saturday to give them all an exam and start medical files on them, much to Audra's delight. She took Heath's hand in a feminine shake that was so firm and graced him with a smile so dazzling that he found himself wistfully envying Jarrod.

The only person who was seemingly uncharmed was Nick. Not that he was unfriendly, or rude or dismissive, rather that he was essentially blank and distant. He nodded politely, took her hand and welcomed her to the ranch, didn't ask any questions, didn't take part in any conversation but retired to the dinner table with the family and pushed food around his plate.

Jarrod suspected Nick was taken aback by the idea that his older brother was courting his Doctors sister. Put that way, it did seem vaguely incestuous, and Jarrod was uneasily aware that he had simply sprung everything on Nick without giving him a chance to get used to the idea. Jarrod hadn't been certain how Nick would respond but this utter blank reaction was totally unexpected and he found himself trying to carefully steer the conversation to completely neutral topics that Nick would have little, if any interest in. 

Audra was fortunately, fascinated by the fact that Agatha was a Doctor, and asked her for details on how she became one. 

"The Philadelphia medical College for Women." Agatha explained. "I was always fascinated by medicine when I was a child. My doll's dresses were stained with medicines I would make for all the imaginary illness they suffered. Our barn became the local clinic for injured wildlife and pets. Jeptha and I treated everything we came across.

Then I was fortunate enough to meet Dr Elizabeth Blackwell and she gave me a letter of introduction to Geneva Medical College. Once I graduated, I was able to practice at the Philadelphia Women's Hospital. By then Jeptha and I had gone our separate ways in the field of medicine. I specialized in women, and he was studying as an Alienist. He also spent a year studying with a man in Germany who has new ideas on how to treat problems such as melancholy and hysteria." 

"You mean psychiatry?" Victoria asked, intrigued. 

"No, the professor he studied with calls it psychology. Psychiatry involves treating the conditions of mental illness as something originating in the body that can be treated in that way. Psychology works on the theory that most mental illnesses, melancholy, hysteria and so on, spring from a person's history, experiences and perceptions. Because of how they feel, they may react or take actions which cause shame or regret, leading to further problems. It becomes a vicious cycle."

"What does a psychologist do, exactly" 

"What Jeptha believed was that if he were able to help someone examine their behavior, the emotions triggered the behavior and the incidents may have in fact, led to the emotions and so on, then he could work backwards. Not 'this is what you do causes problems or shame or guilt,' but 'this is why you do something that causes problems, shame or guilt.' It's basic medicine in a way. It's important to find the cause if you want to treat the symptom." 

"And he felt like he could change someone's behavior that way?" Victoria asked.

Agatha smiled. "No. A physician can't change someone's behavior. What Jeptha wanted to do was give his patients the information and tools they needed to try to change it themselves. It has to be a decision, and an effort, on the patient's part."

"It makes me wish I'd known him better. If Johnson-" Audra bit her lip, embarrassed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" 

"That's all right." Agatha gave a slightly pained smile. "I've had some time now to…absorb it. And I need to get used to thinking of how he died. The Judge is taking letters about Mr Johnson's sentence and he has asked me if I want to address the court beforehand. It's left me in a hard spot. I'm not sure what to say. Part of me objects to taking a life no matter what the reason but my New England upbringing says 'An Eye for an Eye-" 

"Leaves the whole world blind." Nick said abruptly, breaking his meal long silence. Everyone turned and looked at him and he flushed. "That's something Doc Marten said once about biblical justice." He stared down at his plate again. 

Agatha nodded slowly. 

"He told me that once too. I understand what he meant. I think I even agree, I'm just not sure how to explain what I feel." 

"Yeah. I've tried writing a letter, but I think I got it all wrong." 

Agatha looked somewhat startled at this unexpected contribution.

"You wrote a letter? May I see it?" 

Jarrod winced, imaging the bloodthirsty note his brother was likely to produce. 

Nick looked at Agatha in surprise. "I just finished it a while ago. It's not all.." He waved his hand vaguely, groping for a term.

"That's all right. I'd like to see it, If you don't mind." 

Nick blinked and pulled an envelope out of his pocket, handing it across the table to her. 

"I was gonna get Jarrod to check it for me." He mumbled. 

Agatha opened envelope and pulled out the letter, reading it in silence. As her eyes traveled down the page, she bit her lip but was unable to stop a quiver. Steadily her eyes filled up with tears and trickled down her face. 

_Oh Lord, Nick_. Jarrod thought despairingly. _Did you have to?_

Across the table Nick flinched at the tears. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to….I won't give it to the judge." 

Agatha took a deep breath. "No. I think you should. I think, my brother would want you to." She looked up and glancing around the table and taking in the looks of apprehension around her, she handed it to Jarrod. "Would you please read it?" 

Surprised, Jarrod took the letter and opened it carefully, before reading it aloud.

**_Judge Perry,_**_  
_****_  
_****_  
_**_I know Mark Jones, Harry Bishop and John Lutrick wrote a letter asking you to hang Ino Johnson They asked me to sign it, but I decided I'd rather write one of my own._**

__****_  
_**_I never knew a better man than Dr Marten. He only lived here a little while, but he helped a lot of people; not just with his skill, but with his kindness. He really cared for people, and that's rare. I know why people wanna hang Johnston , especially if you compare the Doc to the man who killed him._**_  
_****

__**_If you ask around Stockton I don't think you can find one person who has a good thing to say about Ino Johnston. The word most people would come up with would be 'drunk', followed by 'thief' or 'no good'. I remember him from as a kid. He always hung around the school and beat up smaller kids or stole their lunch. But I remember other stuff, too. _**

**_He always had a black eye, or a bruised face from where his father hit him. His clothes were dirty and torn, because he went through trash to get other people's cast offs. He was alway hungry, because his Da never wasted beer money on food. I remember all that and wonder if he ever had a chance to be anything but what he became._**_  
_****_  
_**_I hate what Ino did, but I can't hate Ino Johnston. I feel sorry for him. He may have killed Doc Marten, what he can't kill is what Doc Marten believed. Doc once said that 'People have an infinite capacity to change for the better,' _**_  
_****_  
_

**_Ino Johnston should be punished, maybe locked up for the rest of his life where he can harm no one else; but spare his life. If we kill him, he'll always be who he is now. He'll never have a chance to understand what he's done; to ask for or get forgiveness. We may not agree with what Doc believed, but I think we should respect it. So I'm asking you not to hang Ino Johnson. Don't take away his chance to change._**_  
_****_  
_****_  
_**_Nicholas J. Barkley_**_  
_

Jarrod read the letter, and carefully folded it up, neatly creasing it at the middle so it would slide smoothly into the envelope. What was it Doc Marten had said? "He's trying to change. Let him." The Doctor had been right.

"I can..I can rewrite it." Nicks voice broke into the silence around the table.

Jarrod ran light fingers over the envelope, not trusting himself to look up. "You don't need to rewrite it."

"So, It's alright?"

Jarrod handed the letter back to his younger brother.

"It's more than that," he answered. "It's compassionate."

Author's note: The quote "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind" is, of course, From Ghandi. What can I say? The Doc was ahead of his time.


	22. Chapter 22

Careful! It's hot!" Nick warned Jordan, easing her away from the cookie tray.

Silas had one day off a week-two if he'd been preparing for a party or a large meal such as Christmas-and this was his off day. He'd left early in the morning and there was no telling when he'd be back.

So Nick seized the occasion to make cookies with Jordan and of course, Angela. Jordan had been thrilled with the flour, and dipping a hand into it had thrown it in the air. Nick, who knew very little about cooking even with a cookbook had made just as big a mess even without throwing flour in the air.

The kitchen now had flour on every surface. There was a sticky paste like substance on the countertops and, although the recipe called for the use of one bowl he had ended up using three. The cookies however, were delicious and seeing the smiles on Angela and Jordan's face, Nick was certain that even twice as big a mess would be worth it.

He was thinking that and reaching across the table to entwine his fingers around Angela's when the kitchen door opened and Silas stepped in, absorbing the scene with a glacial silence before his gaze focused on their clasped hands and became even colder.

Nick got up to his feet awkwardly. "We were making cookies." He offered the plate to the servant, who ignored it. There was a long silence and when it stretched out too long he set down the plate, fidgeted a moment then said "I'll get started on the dishes.

"Ah'll help" Angela offered.

"No need." Silas speared her with a look. "Doesn't the baby need to get that flour off her?"

Angela blinked. "Ah suppose..Ah" she hesitated in indecision for a moment before giving one last look at Nick, then picking up the toddler and carrying her outside.

Nick picked up the bowls and silverware and began washing them, trying to figure out what to say. He didn't know what to say to this version of Silas, who was a far cry from the one he had grown up with. It was unnerving, as if Silas had been wearing a mask his whole life, not revealing what he actually thought and felt, and now was pulling it off for the first time.

Silas started rinsing the bowls and drying the dishes as Nick handed them over. They silently began dusting flour off the surfaces and sweeping it off the floor. It wasn't until they were trying to remove the flour and water paste from the countertops that Nick broke the silence.

"I love her, you know. This isn't just a game for me, I really love her.'

A moment of silence from the servant, then

"It don't matter, Mr. Nick. You can say you love her all you want and it don't mean a thing."

"That's not true, Silas. We-"

"_It's don't matter._ Whatever you say, whatever you feel, whatever she feels, it don't matter! It can't go anywhere. The only thing it's going to do is get her and that little girl hurt."

"I'll protect them!" Nick promised.

"You can't protect them!" The older man sounded angry and frustrated, as if he was trying to explain something to a child who was willfully refusing to hear.

"When we get married-"

"You won't get married Mr Nick. What world do you think you are living in, son? There isn't not a preacher in this valley, in this state that is going to marry you two. And what happens then? Sooner or later you're going to marry some proper white girl from the right family and what happens to those two? Are you going to put them up in a shack somewhere so you can see Miss Angela on the side? What do you think will happen when someone finds out, and they will find out?"

Nick's head was swirling. "Silas, I don't think-"

"Exactly the problem, Mr Nick. You don't think. You aren't thinking at all, you're just enjoying the ride and ignoring the cost. And what about that little girl and how you're treating her? You're treating her like a white child!"

Nick bristled "Jordan is just like anyone else!"

"Jordan is a negro child, Mr Nick. She's not white, she is a negro and she has to learn how to be one. That's something that takes a lot of practice. And you're treating her like white child. You're teaching her to expect to be treated like a white child. How is she going to feel when starts learning that everything you've shown her is wrong?"

Nick stared at Silas in a state of near shock, not only at what the old servant was saying but how he was saying it. Never, in Nick's memory, had Silas spoken to him or anyone else like that.

And honestly, the things Silas was saying were true. He had never once considered the possible effects their romance might have later down the road. He had known and taken care to keep their relationship clandestine, but he had never actually followed that need for secrecy down to its logical conclusion. And now Silas was telling the harsh truth. They couldn't get married. It wasn't happening, not in the valley, not in this state, not in the country even.

Silas'eyes softened slightly. "I know you love that little girl, Mr. Nick. I believe you love Ms. Angela like you say. But Mr. Nick, happily ever after doesn't happen in the real world. And if you two keep carrying on without thinking things through, those two are going to get hurt."

Crushed, Nick turned to leave, then paused at the door.

"If I can come up with a plan, will you give us your blessing?"

Silas sighed. "I don't know Mr Nick. You think there's a way out and I don't see one. Go ahead and think on it Mr Nick, and if you think you can fix this, I'll listen."


	23. Chapter 23

Nick and Heath had a specific method for withdrawing the ranches money from the bank. They would get the bank to give them a small room for privacy and sit down with a bank officer for a witness. Then Nick would carefully count the money he was withdrawing, afterwards Heath would have a second count to verify the amount withdrawn. Nick might seem careless about money to other people, Heath thought, but the fact is he didn't waste the ranches' money. If Nick didn't know where a dollar was going, he didn't withdraw it.

This process generally took around 20 to 30 minutes, which was fine by Heath, particularly since they were supposed to pay for and pick up a shipment of oats today, and the hands could load the wagon while Nick and Heath picked up the withdrawal. They expected the loading to be well underway by the time they got back to the store and were surprised to see the wagons standing empty while the hands stood uneasily nearby.

"What's going on? Why aren't the wagons loaded?" Nick demanded.

Wordlessly, one of the men pointed to a nearly full wagon nearby being loaded by the Jacob Twins.

"We were just starting to load up when those two pulled up and grabbed the supplies." Eddie complained. "We told them they were for the Barkley Ranch and showed our order slip and they just tore it up and kept going.

Nick nodded. The Thompson twins were hellraisers and, as a pair, bullies. To decide to claim rights to supplies that someone else had ordered no matter how much it inconvenienced others was entirely typical of them. What's more they would quite cheerfully jump into a brawl at the drop of a hat. Any hat.

Nick sighed and walked over to the nearly full wagon. One of the twins-it was impossible to tell if it was Jimmy or Johnny-nudged the other and the both got identical smirks.

"Fellas, those are our supplies."

"I don't see no name on it." One of the twins said. "Hey Jimmy, you see Barkley's name on it?"

Jimmy made a great show of examining the supplies.

"Nope. Don't see the name Barkley anywhere. Shame about that."

"It has our order number written on." Nick pointed out, holding up the order slip. "9470."

One of the twins looked at the clearly marked bags.

"Oh, well that ain't these then." One of them said. "You can tell that's order 947 OH not 947- zero. These are our supplies."

The other twin laughed out loud.

"We ordered these supplies a month ago."

The twins smirks grew bigger.

"Then ain't it a shame these aren't them? 'Course if you'd like to come and get them...I mean if you think you're man enough."

The store owner, who had been watching the exchange nervously, bolted into his store and locked the door.

The invitation to a fight hung in the air. Nick felt his temper rise.

_ride it like a bronc_

he remembered and knocked his knuckles on the horse hitch next to him. There was a quick stab of pain and he took a deep breath, stepping back from his-_Jonathon's_-frustration.

_First question: Is someone trying to make you angry on purpose?_

The answer came quickly enough: absolutely. These two were spoiling for a fight.

_Second question: Why?_

Much to his surprise, Nick found the answer easy to reason out. The twins had likely been sent into town by their father, no doubt given instructions to return with supplies for the ranch or else. And their father was a notoriously heavy-handed man known to cuff his sons freely for any failure, real or imagined. The boys were probably afraid to return without the supplies and thus perfectly ready to brawl for them. And if Nick threw the first punch, then their father would be pleased and bragging about how his boys "stood up for themselves against Nick Barkley."

Abruptly Nick decided not to play.

"Heath? Would you go get the sheriff, please?"

The twins blinked.

"Sure thing, Nick." Heath said, looking only slightly less surprised than the Jacobs.

The twins exchanged alarmed looks.

"Sheriff's not gonna arrest someone over supplies." Said one of them. "Not if we go in an pay for 'em."

"We'll see, won't we?" Nick said. Now that he'd decided not to pulled into their game, he felt remarkably relaxed. Behind him he could feel his men exchanging puzzled glances. One of his men stepped closer.

"Nick, you know we'll back you up if you decide to fight 'em for it." He whispered.

"Thanks fellas, but we're just gonna wait for the sheriff."

The hands behind him shifted uneasily, as if they found his behavior unnerving. The twins looked even more unhappy. Abruptly one them -Jimmy? Johnny? - push himself an inch away from Nick's face.

"You want these supplies? You're gonna hafta fight for 'em!"

"There's not going to be any fighting here." The Sheriff hurried across the street, followed by Heath, who looked relieved at the absence of fisticuffs. "Want to tell me what's going on?"

"We seem to have a misunderstanding about these supplies." Nick said. "As you can see, this is our order," he handed over the torn order slip. "The Thomopsons apparently believe it isn't spoken for."

The Sheriff examined the torn order slip suspiciously.

"How did this get ripped?" He demanded.

"I don't recall Sheriff. If you could just check with Bob and verify with him the supplies are ours?"

The Sheriff gave the twins a dirty look and knocked on the locked door of the feed store.

"Bob, come one out here."

Bob, looking distinctly relieved, unlocked the door and stepped outside.

"Is this the Barkley's shipment?"

"Yes Sir. Nick just left to get the payment. His men were supposed to load it."

"Doesn't belong to the Thompsons?"

"No Sheriff."

The Sheriff turned back to the tense group on the sidewalk.

"It seems pretty clear whose supplies those are. You two," A nod in the direction of the Thompson twins "need to unload that wagon. Now."

The twins had flushed a dark crimson and climbed on their wagon.

"Thanks Fred." Nick said.

The Sheriff nodded.

"I appreciate you calling me before there was trouble, Nick."

Nick went inside the store to pay and returned to see the transfer of supplies moving along nicely. He helped get the Thompsons wagon unloaded, then paused.

"Chuck Temple asked me last week if I needed about a thousand pounds of oats. Seems someone ordered 'em then had to back out. If he still has them that would give you something to take home today while ordering more for next month."

The twins looked at him in surprise. "Why are you telling us?" One of them asked suspiciously.

"Because if you go someplace else for your supplies we won't have any more...misunderstandings."

They stared at him blankly for a moment, then climbed on their wagon and headed in the direction of Temples Feed and General Store. Nick and Heath quickly finished loading up the wagon.

"Fellas, head on home. Nick and I will be right after you."

The reigns slapped against the horses and the wagon moved out.

Nick was puzzled.

"Are we supposed to pick up something else?"

Heath smiled.

"I just wanna buy my big brother a drink."


	24. Chapter 24

Stockton was not a huge town, but it did have one large dance in midsummer. It was, essentially, a time when all the various churches put aside their rivalries and hosted a joint party in the interests of brotherhood and togetherness. It didn't really make a difference, of course. As soon as the party was over each congregation returned to the usual competition for biggest chapel, or largest bell or most populous congregation or most honored guest preachers even though all guest preachers more or less ended up being passed around. With multiple churches of the same denomination in town, visiting pastors with a decent reputation could count on several weeks of free board and care from whichever church he visited next. Heath had observed once that visiting preachers in Stockton were like machines: drop a meal in-get a sermon out. Thankfully he had avoided voicing this opinion outside of the family; a good thing even if Nick did find it hilarious.

Since the Social involved the congregation of so many churches, a special dancing platform always had to be built for the occasion, then decorated lavishly, sometimes over lavishly, by the competing congregations. Because it was such a communal event, arriving with a specific person was considered as an open announcement of:

_ 'Hi! I am courting this person with the possible intention of marriage soon. It would be in bad taste to ask this person out!'_

It was, naturally, the local gossips busiest moment. So, when Jarrod arrived with Doctor Agatha the gossips immediately took note and huddled together to score the couple on presentation, comportment and synchronization. Jarrod would have been gratified by the high marks they received. Heath arrived separately, driving a carriage with Audra and Victoria. He helped them out of the carriage, stepped on the platform and was immediately surrounded by a group of young ladies topped with a truly bizarre assortment of feathers.

Jarrod whirled Agatha through the first three dances, then they briefly retired to the benches under the trees with some refreshments. Agatha sipped at her punch, enjoying Jarrod's company and the cool spot with its gentle breeze. A moment later Heath slipped into the courtyard with a somewhat furtive movement.

"Jarrod, do you mind if I hide with you? I need to escape for a few minutes." Heath plucked a feather from his coat, looking somewhat harassed. "My last dancing partner was molting."

"Was she one of those girls carrying feathers?" Agatha inquired.

"Yes Ma'am."

"What a strange habit." Agatha caught a glimpse of another group of girls similarly decorated. "Jarrod? Is that a local custom or..?"

Heath scowled and Jarrod started laughing,

"They're Heath's um…fan club, so to speak. The feathers are Nick's fault."

"Nick's fault? I don't understand." She loved seeing him smile like this, blue eye's sparkling, dimples showing up in his cheeks.

"You want to tell the story Heath, or should I?"

"How about neither?" Heath growled.

Jarrod ignored him. "Little Brother here is a good looking fellow, as you may have noticed. Unfortunately, he was so shy that the first few dances he attended he didn't have enough nerve to ask any of the girls to dance. Bear in mind, any number of ladies fell in love with the him the moment they saw that Angelic face and blue eyes, but of course, proper young ladies don't ask men to dance, they wait to be asked."

"Of course." Agatha responded serenely. "Boldness is such an unattractive trait."

Jarrod laughed again.

"One day our church had a distinguished preacher from the east, and in honor of his visit we threw a dance. Well things were going along as usual: Heath was staring at the floor, and a group of lovelorn doves was looking longingly at him from across the room. Finally, one the girls decided that being 'proper' wasn't working and she practically dragged Heath onto the dance floor. Heath's other admirers followed her lead and kept him busy all night."

"I was sweating like a pig before the night was over." Heath confided to Agatha's delight.

'The visiting Reverend was appalled at this "Unchristian behavior" and spent the next Sunday Sermon railing against the younger generations lax morals at the dance; young girls dancing with men of -as he put it -questionable background. Everyone knew what he was talking about. Heath was mortified and Mother looked angry enough to walk out of church. The Reverend was giving his hellfire and brimstone speech and he reached the high point asking, "What kind of girl so shamelessly and boldly approaches a man and begs his favors?" And Nick bellowed "Heathens."

'The entire congregation started laughing … and laughing … and laughing. They could not stop. Judge Tyler was in tears, he was laughing so hard. The choir looked like dominos collapsing; the organist fell off the bench. Our honored guest speaker stormed out and hasn't been back since. The next dance Nick showed up early to hand out feathers to any girl admitting to being a "Heathen" and Brother Heath has never again had to stand around wondering if someone will dance with him."

"If I'da know what he was gonna say anything, I would've gagged him" Heath groused.

Agatha laughed in delight. "Nick's very protective, isn't he?"

"Don't give him too much credit." Jarrod snorted. "Last Dance we came in to find a sign on one wall that said "Baptists" and a sign on another wall that said "Heathens." We know Nick did it but he hasn't confessed yet."

Heath leaned over and added "There was also a third sign that said 'Jarrodians.'

"I recall" Jarrod said sourly. "You know Brother Heath, I believe we need to come up with a proper name for ladies who want to dance with Nick."

"Certifiably insane?" Heath suggested.

**BVBVBVBVBVBV**

A hundred yards away, a third Barkley carriage pulled up in the shadows, keeping carefully out of sight of the revelers. Nick helped Angela out of the carriage and she craned her neck, trying to see dance floor and decorations. Nick provided a pair of binoculars with a flourish.

"Try these."

She lifted them to her eyes and almost dropped them, startled as the dance platform and participants leaped into focus.

"It's pretty." She said wistfully. "An' all them dresses.."

"You wouldn't believe how heavy they are." Nick confided. "I've helped carry Mother and Audra's dresses upstairs. I swear they must be strong as mules to be able to wear those things all day."

She giggled at the picture it made in her mind: two mules with Audra Barkley's golden hair and Victoria Barkley's white hair, dressed in silk gowns and waltzing around the dance floor.

"How da they be knowin' them dances?" She asked.

"Oh, you can take classes if you want. You can hire a dance teacher to come to your houses and give you personal lessons if you'd rather not practice in front of others. Of course that costs more."

"Is the dances hard?"

"No. If I can learn it anyone can."

She looked at him doubtfully.

"Here, just put your right hand in my left hand, and my hand goes here around your waist. Put your feet next to mine so you can feel which way we step. Now one, two, three, four…" He counted out the steps slowly so she could keep up. "Then we turn, and one, two, three, four and turn. See? It's easy."

Angela followed his steps carefully, gaining confidence.

"One, two, three, four. And turn…."

A bubble of laughter emerged.

"It's lak flyin."

"Yeah." He laughed happily, then took her hand and pulled her towards to dance platform. "Come on. Let's go show them how it's done."

Angela froze with anxiety.

"Ah can't go down theya."

"Yes you can, come on." He urged, pulling her another step towards the party.

Her eyes widened in fear. "Ah can't."

"I'll be with you. There's nothing to be afraid of. Dance with me." He started to walk toward the light of party, still holding her hand.

"They won understan-"

"To hell with them! I don't care if they understand or not."

"No!"

"I love you. I'm not ashamed of loving you. They won't dare hurt us."

She wrenched her hand away.

"They won dare hurt YOU! You safe, Nick. What you think they gonna do to me? If we go out there, they gonna find a way ta put me in my place. You ain't always gonna be 'round and they be watching. They be finding a time when Ah'm alone, or with Jordan. And what you think they gonna do to a negro woman dancing with a white man? Ya don't know. Ya can't know."

And she turned and vanished into the forest.

**BVBVBVBVBVBVBV**

It took Nick almost an entire hour of looking to find her. For a while he feared she decided to walk home without him, but kept doggedly searching until the sound of a lonesome sniffle lead him to the small clearing she was in. She sat on a log, looking down at the ground. He took a long moment to sit beside her before he began speaking.

"I'm sorry. I was being selfish and stupid. I was thinking about what I want, not what was best for you." He stopped and stared down at his clasped hands. "A few weeks ago I tried to talk to Silas about us- you, me. Made him mad. He said there couldn't be an us; that I didn't know anything about what it's like being a negro. I guess I just proved he was right, didn't I?"

"Ya can't know what ya never lived." She murmured, not looking at him.

"Yeah, I guess I can't." He sat silently beside her. "I'll learn." He promised. "I'll be a better listener."

She shook her head slowly. "Ah doan know if that'll help." She said.

"It has to." He answered. "Because I don't want anything to come between us." He sighed for a moment. "I'm looking for a place; someplace for you and me and Jordan. I've hired some agents from the Pinkertons to look for us; to find someplace where we can be a family."

After a moment she reached out and took his hand, stroking it softly. "Wha if they can' find one?"

"They have to." He whispered. A peaceful silence fell between them. "Dance with me here?" he asked.

"Ah already done fergot."

He smiled gently. "I'll show you."

She looked around the clearing and, seeing no one, nodded.

He pulled her into his arms and wrapped her hands around his neck.

"Just follow the music. Nothing fancy, no steps or patterns. Just follow me."

Angela relaxed against him, smelling leather and cologne, leaning into his body.

They could faintly hear the music from the social, and Nick started humming along with a slow ballad from the dance, then singing the words to her, his voice horse and out of tune.

_"I never thought_  
_You'd mean a thing to me._  
_But when I needed your loving_  
_You gave me loving_  
_Natural as can be._

_I love your face._  
_I love your quiet ways._  
_If I could paint you in colors_  
_You'd be a rainbow_  
_In a summer's day._

_And when I feel the way I'm feeling_  
_Can't help believing you made it so easy. _  
_They can't take that away._

It was the sweetest sound Angela ever heard.


	25. Chapter 25

Heath'd had enough. He was exceedingly even tempered and easygoing person and when he was annoyed, worked hard at letting it go for the sake of peace and quiet. Fitting in with the Barkley's was a good example. Before he had arrived, it had never occurred to him that there was going to be a monumental difference between getting along with one family member, his mother, and five other family members. However, he made a concerted effort to ease into the Barkley's life without making too many waves, despite their weird vegetables and things like ponds full of fish that weren't meant to be eaten. Enough however, was enough.

He was sick and tired of the cold war between Nick and Jarrod. At last night's business meeting Jarrod had finally cleared his throat, swallowed his pride and stiffly suggested they get rid of the stupid bull. Nick, who you would think would be instantly ecstatic, had just as stiffly said he would work on it. And that was it. No "_It seems I made a mistake about the bull and I'm sorry_" From Jarrod. No "_Thanks Jarrod, I'm glad we could come to an agreement" _from Nick. Just a stiff, cold suggestion-near order-that they get rid of the bull and a chilly response in return.

It was infuriating because as far as how the ranch was running, it was largely back to the status quo excepting that Jarrod was making a distinct effort to listen to Nick's ideas with an open mind and Nick was checking every day on Jarrod's pet projects to ensure they were being taken care of. Emotionally however, they were sulking like were five. It was time, Heath decided, to take direct action, and he visited the Sheriff.

** bvbvbvbvbvbb **

Victoria suspected Heath was up to something as she watched him eat dinner. For starters, he was serving himself brussel sprouts without that odd look he usually had at seeing this dish. Secondly, he was seemingly trying to nudge both Nick and Jarrod into saying they needed time off. So far, this ploy wasn't working. Nick scarcely paid attention while he scarfed down his meal, part of his new habit finishing early so he could-strangely- assist Silas with the dishes. And Jarrod had the distracted, somewhat pained look he almost always had around his brother lately. as if he wanted to say something to Nick but wasn't sure how. It was as if Heath was flogging two dead horses to get up and run: A total waste of energy. Eventually Heath dropped all pretense of subtlety by simply declaring:

"Mother said she wanted some fresh salmon and asked us to go fishing tomorrow."

Which of course, left Victoria surprised since she most certainly had not expressed a desire for fresh fish. Fish, as far as Victoria was concerned, was what you ate when you are on a camping trip or traveling cross country and there wasn't any other food to be had. Not that she hated fish, she just didn't particularly like fish. So, she responded to this announcement by turning to Heath for an explanation, only to be meet by an expression of mute appeal. And since Victoria was no more proofed against what Nick groused were 'Heath's lost puppy eyes' than anyone else was; she swallowed her protestations, gave her sons her most sickly, sweet smile and said only:

"Please boys. It would mean _SO MUCH_ to me."

Naturally Nick and Jarrod couldn't refuse such a simple, heartfelt request from their Mother and reluctantly, both agreed to meet Heath at the barn at 5:00 AM for an early fishing trip.

Victoria thought of how the smell of fish guts would hang around the kitchen for days and hoped it was worth it.

The stream they were fish at had been carefully chosen by Heath. It had to meet several parameters:

1\. It couldn't have so MANY fish that they would catch everything they needed immediately and head back in the same sullen, resentful silence they had arrived.

2\. It still had to have enough fish so that Nick wouldn't get frustrated and go hunt for berries, curry the horses or do anything else but fish.

3\. It had to be far enough away that if Nick did get completely bored-for example if the fish were not biting that day-he couldn't just easily walk home.

4\. It had to have Salmon. If Heath was going to go to all this trouble to get his mule headed brothers to talk, he was by golly going to get salmon out of it.

The first part of his plan was relatively easy. He got his brothers out of the wagon while he tethered the horses, and kept up a steady stream of commentary designed to distract them, which was sufficiently effective that they ended up making a bet on who would catch the most fish that day. The second part of his plan was trickier, and after considering his options, decided to just go for flat out sneaky, moving up stealthily behind them and clasping the left wrist of both in a pair of wrist irons that left them chained together.

"What?...What the hell are you doing?" Demanded Nick.

"You two going to clear the air." Heath said flatly. "And no one is leaving until it's done."

"Heath," Jarrod started in his 'I'm disappointed" voice.

"Huh-uh. It's my turn to talk. I have spent the last few months being stuck between the two of you while y'all bicker. You-" he turned to Nick, "Have a point about how Jarrod was interfering with the ranch and blocking your ideas. But in case you haven't noticed, he's not doing that anymore, and instead of being happy about it, you're still carrying a grudge. And you," He turned to Jarrod, raising a hand to keep Jarrod from interrupting "Spent months acting like Nick needs to be supervised in his every move, never mind that he's the one who really turned this ranch into what it is by taking chances. And you've finally stopped which is good, but you really haven't even offered an apology for treating him like he's five. You two are making Mother and Audra miserable, you're making _me_ miserable and the hands are starting to take sides. You're grown men and you're brothers. Work the damned thing out!"

He glared at them both, before slogging a good 20 yards upstream and casting his pole.

"Heath!" Nick protested

"I can't hear you!"

Nick and Jarrod glared at the blond cowboy before turning their attention to each other.

"Well, this is just great." Nick groused, tentatively testing the chain.

Jarrod was just as unhappy. "I thought there was something wrong with that whole 'Mother want's fish' story. The only time Mother wants fish is when it's that or starve."

"How are we even supposed to fish? I don't suppose you want to stand with your left arm behind your back do you?"

"No more than you do." Jarrod gave the chain a yank.

"Ow! What are are you trying to do? Break my arm?"

"I'm just checking to see if they're really secure."

Nick rubbed his arm. "Take my word for it; they're secure."

Jarrod bit off his next response; it was only going to make things worse.

"Look," He said finally, "the obvious move is to stand side by side, you face one direction and I face the other and we'll fish that way."

"Fine."

"Fine."

"Fine!"

They set up their poles in sullen silence and cast for a few minutes.

"You know we could chase him down and get the key." Nick offered.

"Uh Huh, and do you want to run backwards or should I?"

"It was an idea."

"It was a bad one."

They fished for a few more minutes.

"This is no good." Nick burst out. "How did we manage to get locked up like this? And how long has Heath been plotting this anyway?"

"Oh, who knows." Jarrod said crossly. "And he won't unlock us until he's good and ready. You know how stubborn he is."

Nick huffed. "Barkley stubborn. '

Jarrod nodded. "Remember when he first came here and we didn't believe he was a Barkley?"

"Yeah. I told that to Doc Marten once. He about fell over laughing. He said anyone who who spent 15 minutes with Heath would know he was 'the Barkleyest Barkley who ever Barkleyed.'

Jarrod was startled into laughter. "That sounds about right."

He glanced sideway at Nick. "How'd you learn fly fishing?"

"Doc Marten showed me."

Jarrod felt a stab of hurt. "I would have shown you. I offered enough times."

"Awww," Nick stared down. "It was right after the fight about hiring your client and I figured even if I asked you to show me that sooner or later we'd start talking about McArthur and then we'd argue and then I'd be so mad I'd want to punch you in the face."

"Oh."

"Doc said it was no wonder we'd have an argument if I was already planning on it." Nick sighed. "I really miss him. He could say stuff like that and I wouldn't feel like he meant that I was stupid."

Jarrod was silent for a moment. "Unlike me."

"Pretty much."

Jarrod fidgeted unhappily. "I know you're not stupid, Nick."

A bitter laugh. "Since when?"

"Since always. I think you acting without thinking things through sometimes. At least you did...you've gotten a lot better about it lately. I heard how you handled the twins in town: Got the feed, didn't get baited into a fight with them, even helped set them up so they weren't going home empty handed. That was smart."

"If you don't think I'm stupid why have you been trying to run the ranch, lately?" Nick asked bluntly.

"I've been trying to help!" Jarrod retorted defensively.

"Help? Ordering me to hire your client? Getting Mother to vote to get that stupid bull even though I knew better-even though _Heath_ knew better, and you'll usually at least listen to Heath! When did I become totally incapable of deciding whether or not we needed new livestock?" Nick demanded.

Jarrod bristled. "Look Nick, you don't know how bad you were when I left! You'd smashed that mirror with your bare hands; you weren't eating. I went to Mayville out of desperation. I thought I might be coming home to a funeral!" Jarrod took a deep breath. "So, I thought I'd stay in Stockton for a while; make certain you were recovering; maybe help take some of the burden off. Maybe I overcompensated a little."

Nick huffed.

"Alright, a lot." Jarrod amended. "I wasn't trying to take over, Nick." He was silent for a long moment. "I'm sorry."

Nick was quiet. "The first time I ever got into a fight in school it was about you, sort of. That teacher you loved, Mr Roland? He was having us draw wagons and cut out circles for the wheels. I wasn't very good at that. I remember he picked up one of my circles and held it up in front of the class and said "Nick's wagon isn't going to go anywhere because his wagon wheel isn't round." Jarrod winced. "When we went outside for lunch somebody said that it must be embarrassing to be so much dumber than you. He said that I was jealous. Made me furious because I didn't think it was true. I was kidding myself." He admitted.

'Everybody always..Mr Roland our teacher always said 'Why can't you be like Jarrod?' Everyday he'd say that. And Father, he'd always introduce you with 'This is Jarrod. He's the smart one.' I was just the one who was standing next to the smart one. The ranch was the only place where I might be smarter than you, or at least more knowledgeable. And lately I didn't even have that." He saw a fish circling around his ankles and chased it away. "Mother doesn't say so, but she thinks you're smarter, too. That's why she always sides with you."

Jarrod was shocked. "Mother doesn't think that"

"Then why does she always vote with you? Every time Jarrod, _every time_ we argue about the ranch, she votes with you." Nick pointed out. "And Audra always votes with mother and just like that, everything we disagree on goes your way. And lately we disagree on everything."

"I'll talk to her." Jarrod promised.

"Don't." Nick sighed. "What's the point? She's not even aware she does it. It's just going to make her feel bad. But Jarrod, the thing is, I need you at least to believe I can run the ranch. When you don't listen to me, I stop listening to you. And that's bad because I need you. _We_ need you."

Nick paused, trying to figure out how to explain. "Heath and I look for what's best for the family; but you're the one who reminds us that there's more to the valley than the family. What's good for the Barkley's isn't always what's good for everybody else, or sometimes anybody else. You tell me what you think is the RIGHT thing to do for everyone, not just for our family."

Jarrod listened with a sort of wonder. He didn't think he and Nick had talked, really talked like this in….ever. He had always thought of Nick as not listening; well, maybe neither one of them had been. And the idea of Nick absorbing the lesson the Jarrod was 'the smart one' from grade school on? Jarrod felt a stab of guilt. It was no wonder Nick felt he had to defend himself from any insult, real or implied. It wasn't Jarrod's fault; he wasn't to blame for what others said but he felt miserably responsible for not considering how Nick would feel about it.

Nick gave him a sideways glance. 'The thing is, I need the guy who can tell me if I'm being…I dunno, fair? Right? But lately I miss….I need Pappy, more. You know, the fella who gave me a bottle to piss in when I was stuck in a mine shaft; the kid who told me about rain and angel tears and shamrocks and rainbows. The big brother who'd save me when I was doing something stupid. I need him sometimes." The stream flowed around their knees, forming little eddys of indignation at the intrusion. "I miss him."

Jarrod tried to speak without clearing his throat first. An ancient habit, never let your little brother know when he has you by the guts.

"Well, I believe I can get him to make a few more appearances then. Of course, you may have to tell me who you need. Otherwise I can't guarantee that I won't sometimes be Jarrod when you need Pappy."

"I think I can do that." Nick's voice was equally husky.

There was a long moment of silent.

"Do you think Heath's going to unlock us anytime soon?" Jarrod asked.

"You better hope so."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause I gotta pee."

Heath listened to stutter of laughter that was distinctly Jarrod's and smiled. His older brothers were talking to each other again and he could feel in his bones that the wounds between the two would mend. It would be a different relationship than the one they'd had before, but Heath suspected that it would ultimately be stronger. This fishing trip was everything he'd hoped for. The fact that he had already caught enough fish to win the morning's wager was pure gravy. 

bvbvvbvb 

author's note: The line about Heath being a Barkley isn't original….I saw a description about Jon Snow and it was too accurate not to use it for Heath. Sadly, I don't recall where I saw it, but I'm hoping if I acknowledge I adapted it from someone else that they won't sue me if they happen to read this.


	26. Chapter 26

Nick walked past the barn and glanced in then back up and looked again. Jarrod was sitting, surrounded by a pile of tack, rubbing vigorously at a mud-spattered saddle.

"Afternoon big brother. Looks like you have a project going on."

Jarrod glanced up at Nick's familiar rumble.

"Well, after we talked the other day, I realized that I was voting on things I didn't necessarily know enough about, on the ranch I mean. I thought I should get more hands on as far as working knowledge. "

Nick beamed. "That's a plan, Pappy. Move over there, and I'll help you."

Nick sat nearby in companionable silence, cleaning and oiling the tack with characteristic vigor. Jarrod felt a little eddy of warmth in his chest. How long had it been since he and Nick just sat down and DID something together? Maybe that was why they had drifted so far apart; not that they had different jobs or different interests, they had just stopped spending time together. Jarrod paused to take a drink of water.

"So, Jarrod," Nick boomed. "When ya gonna marry Agatha?'

Water spewed across the saddle Jarrod was working on and he started coughing violently. It took several minutes of back slapping on Nick's part for Jarrod to catch his breath.

"Alright, so I'm guessing you hadn't really been thinking about that, yet?"

"It wasn't foremost in my mind." Jarrod growled.

"It oughta be, Pappy. She's smart. She's pretty. She's fun. She's kind."

"Meaning what? I could do worse?"

"No, meaning you're marrying up. She's a great lady. And you love her, I can tell because when you're with her and you think no one is watching you get all...soft and goopy."

"Goopy?"

"Yep. Quit dragging your feet and marry the girl, Jarrod."

Jarrod huffed in frustration.

"Everything is so easy for you, isn't it? No plans, no consideration for the fact we both work; no worries about old enemies bearing a grudge. Just leap into marriage with a happy cry!"

Nick sorted through Jarrod's hastily listed reasons before settling on the one he suspected was most likely. "This is about Hyatt, right? You know the chances that another enemy-ANY enemy- would go after you is just mouse toe sized."

"It could still happen." Jarrod said stubbornly. "Even if it doesn't than I could die and leave her alone in any number of ways." 

'I can't guarantee that I'll even survive past the wedding night. Suppose there IS another angry ex-convict out for revenge. They could shoot her; they could shoot me. I could have a stroke. I could get cancer. I could fall off a horse and break my neck….." Jarrod pondered the possibilities for a moment.

Nick listened to this gloomy litany with concern. He knew that sooner or later everyone thought about death but he was dismayed at the morbid list of potential dooms his brother was rattling off. He assumed it had something to do with the truly awful murder of Beth so soon after their marriage No wonder the slug hadn't asked Agatha for her hand. Nick decided to drag Jarrod out of this mindset before he screwed up his chances with this woman. 

"….I could drown in a flood." 

"Shot by the Dunigan brothers." Nick suggested, slyly. 

Jarrod was startled for a moment. "I could be bitten by a rattlesnake." 

"Thrown in front of a team of galloping horses."

Jarrod almost smiled. "Fall down a mineshaft." He prodded back. 

"Get my foot caught in a bear trap." Nick added solemnly. 

"Mauled by a mountain lion." 

"Die of pneumonia." 

"Catch rabies from a wolf." 

"Blown up by a bomb." 

"Trapped in a mine by an outlaw irish man?" 

"Shang-hied by a pretty lady." 

"All right, All right." Jarrod was laughing so hard he wasn't sure he could talk. "Cut myself shaving and bleed to death…"

Audra walked into the yard and was struck by the strange look on Victoria's face as she stood just outside the barn door.

"Mother? Are you alright?"

"Shush." Her mother responded listening to the voices inside.

"Try this one.."

The voice from the barn was so tongue tied by coughing laughter that it was impossible to tell if it came from Jarrod or Nick.

"Tie…Tie…Tied up to a railroad track and weakened from snake bites…." 

"Escaping the tracks just in time when you're mauled by a lion…." 

"…and while hopping to safety, fall down a mine shaft populated by rabid wolves-" 

"and bear traps.…" 

This was possibly the most bizarre conversation Audra had ever heard. 

"Mother, what are they talking about?" 

"I don't know." Victoria answered with genuine bewilderment. She listened a moment longer. "And I'm not sure I want to." 


	27. Chapter 27

There was a whippoorwill tree behind the house, not a large one but large enough, as Nick had learned as a small boy, to hide from a casual glance. If you wanted to find someone, particularly at night, you had to know they were there and really look for them. This made it ideal for quiet meetings such as the one he was having with Angela. He leaned against the tree, feeling the rough bark on his back, Angela leaned against his chest while he wrapped his arms around her.

Nearby, Jordan played with her wooden blocks. Nick had them specially made-his right hand was too uncertain for delicate carving work-and then sanded them four times just to make certain there were no splinters to injure her fingers. They lay there peacefully and watched the little girl play.

"Ya be so happy."

Nick grinned. "I feel like I got my brother back. It's been so long since he and I talked. Really talked."

Angela traced a shirt button. "Ah don member ma brother's much."

"Brothers can be great. When I was growing up, Jarrod was always there. I couldn't do anything without him showing up to make certain I wasn't going to get hurt by doing something stupid. Trying to climb a tree that was too high? There was Pappy. Deciding to go over a waterfall in a barrel? Pappy again. Trying to ride a horse way too big and dangerous for my age? Pappy to the rescue, just like always."

"Eva time?

"Always." Nick studied the big dipper. "I want to have two boys. At least. Maybe four."

"Fo?" Angela rolled her eyes. "Ya can sure tell who havin' da babies."

"Well, what do you want?"

She paused, then turned wondering eyes at him.

"Ah don' know. Ah never had no one ask me tha b'fore." She pondered for a moment. "When I was a small'un Ah used to dream of workin' inside. Not gettin' ma hands all cut and sore from pickin' cotton or workin' the fields. Workin liek Ah works with Silas now, would'uv seem'd like heav'n. But if Ah coul' do anythin'..." She thought about a minute longer "Don' know anymore. Now when Ah think of wha' I would wan Ah think of a plase for ma pony where Jordan could ride. A home that Ah could make ma own. Ah coulds decide Ah wans a table there and put a table there. Or where Ah could decide wha' kinda flowers be plant'd. Maybe even some pichers on tha wall, jes where I wans to hang 'em. A place of ma own." She turned to Nick. "wha' 'bout you? Ya wans a big house liek this?"

Now it was Nick's turn to think.

"You'd think it would be, wouldn't ya? No, I don't want a big house, really. I want a place with enough land to stretch and grow; have a herd of my own, like here only smaller. I want a small orchard, just big enough to a few apple trees and peach trees; enough to make some pies and jam and just to munch on when I get hungry and my wife slaps my fingers if I try to sneak from the meals she's cooking."

Angela laughed at the description.

"House-well the house doesn't really matter. I want to live in one that isn't white. Maybe painted a light blue. And a big old featherbed, so soft you can drown in."

Angela's eyes widened. "A featherbed." She whispered, as if it was most incredible thought in the world.

"Of course, Jordan has to have her own room. Not just a closet room either, one big enough to hold her toys in. And a good-sized barn. We're going to need milking cows, plus at least two cutting horses along with Cocoa, Easy and a pony for Jordan..." he trailed off, seeing her withdrawn expression. "What's wrong?"

"Ya talk leik it's really goin t'happen is all."

He took her hand in his own. "It is going to happen. I'll make it happen."

"Can't happen. Not heah. People won' let it. "

"I know that; we'll leave."

Her eyes dropped.

"Angela, I promise you. I think I may even have a place."

She shook her head.

"You'd haf ta leave ya fam'ly"

"You'll be my family." He sighed. "I love them but….I feel like I'm living for someone else's dream, someone else's goals. I want to have my own life and goals. Does that make me selfish? To live in the lap of luxury and have everything anyone could want but not be happy because it's not truly mine?"

"Ah don' think so. Ah'm livin' w' more than Ah eva had n' Ah'd still leik a place uv ma own. Ah don' think it wrong fo ya to wanna hev a life of ya own."

Nick smiled at her, then winced suddenly.

"Ow!" He clenched his right fist, then began shaking it as it started to spasm.

"Heah, Ah brought sumthin' ta help."

She pulled out a small hide that held a sharp smelling ointment and began to massage it into his hand.

"That betta?"

"Ouch!" he protested. "That hurts! You're rubbing too hard."

"Doan be such a baby!"

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm a big, tough cowboy."

She snorted.

"Yeah? Ask Jordan." He turned to the baby playing with her blocks. "Jordan, I'm a big tough cowboy, right?"

Jordan got a look of intense concentration, then a distinctly pungent odor filled the air.

"I really hope that's not your answer."

Angela started giggling.

"Let me go 'nside n change her diaper."

"Just stay here and change it. You can show me how to do it."

"You goin' ta change nappys?" Angela scoffed.

"It's part of taking care of Jordan. I'm happy to learn."

Angela glanced at him doubtfully.

"Come one, let's get cracking." he insisted.

Shaking her head, she demonstrated the process as she talked.

"Well, ya pulls out ya new diaper and place it heah. Gets ya rags ready, then take off tha pin heah an' pull down tha nappy leik this."

She pulled down the diaper and Nick's face fell.

"Is it too late to change my mind?"


	28. Chapter 28

Silas washed the dishes methodically, trying to figure out what to cook for dinner. Some meals he planned far in advance, sometimes he simply looked around the kitchen for what was available and went from there. Some things were a given. Bread was a daily part of each meal, as were at least two vegetables. The tricky part was the meat course. It wouldn't do to make the same dish twice in one week; he had too much self-respect for that. He also had to take into account which family members were in town and which ones were not so he didn't make someone's favorite while they were away and so on and so on and so on. Periodically he had to adjust to account for unexpected events, such as the fish that currently were splashing in a bucket, unaware of their dismal fate.

Since fish was on the menu, he had to prepare a third vegetable dish, just in case Victoria Barkley decided to pass on the meat dish. Little adjustments like that were such a part of his daily routine he didn't even thing about it anymore. Things he did keep an eye on included Mr Nick's current habit of coming in after meals and, if Angela was washing dishes, immediately taking over the drying. Silas had hoped the relationship would fizzle by now but it showed no signs of doing so, much to his displeasure.

The only thing he could say in favor of the romance is that it hadn't turned into a physical one as far as he could tell. It may have been unfair of him, but he wouldn't have credited Nick with that level of self-restraint. Then again, Nick was full of surprises lately, including his abrupt arrival in the kitchen at this odd hour. Normally he would be out tending the ranch, but he simply showed up in the kitchen with a large rolled up sheet of paper in his hands.

"Do you remember saying if I could come up with a solution, you'd listen?"

Silas nodded warily. Nick unrolled the paper, revealing a large map, and pointed to a specific spot.

"There."

BVBVBVBVBVBV

"Mr Barkley?"

Jarrod looked up from and appellate decision he was reviewing to see his secretary standing in the doorway and felt a pang of annoyance.

"I'm in the middle of something, right now."

""It's just that your brothers are here. Do you want to see them or should I tell them you're busy?"

Jarrod was startled. Family members didn't usually bother him at work. They respected it as his workplace and generally waited until he was home if they had questions or problems about the family business, so this must be pretty important.

"Go ahead and send them in."

Nick and Heath came into the office, Heath taking a seat immediately while Nick characteristically stayed on his feet and fidgeted with the hat in his hands.

"Hello, Brothers of mine. What can I help you with?"

Heath shrugged. "Don't ask me. Nick dragged me to this rodeo."

"Brother Nick?"

Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. "I'm not sure how to put this so I'm just going to be blunt. I'm leaving."

Jarrod wasn't sure he was hearing properly. "What do you mean 'leaving'? Leaving what?"

"Everything. Leaving the ranch; leaving the state; leaving the country. I've already bought some property outside of Toronto, Canada. It's big enough to raise a good size herd and start my own ranch."

Heath looked at dumbfounded as Jarrod felt. This was entirely understandable as it had not occurred to either man that Nick might be thinking of leaving. Both were aware Nick had been unhappy this year, but with the recent repair of the relationship between Jarrod and Nick, the dissatisfaction had seemingly dissipated. Heath had been aware Nick still seemed somewhat absent minded, as if he was only party interested in the ranch, but the very idea that Nick would be planning to leave had not-could not-be considered by either one of the Barkley brothers.

"When did you start thinking of leaving the ranch?" Jarrod struggled to focus his finely tuned attorney trained mind on the conversation.

"Couple of weeks after Doc Marten died." Came the quick response. "Silas pointed out some things that made me realize I couldn't stay here if I wanted to get married."

"Married? Who do you want to marry?" If Jarrod had been perched on the upper deck of a boat that suddenly and without warning decided to wallow on its side, he couldn't have been more off balance.

Abruptly a light flicked on in Heath's eyes as if a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle suddenly fit into place. "Angela." He said.

Nick nodded. "Angela."

Scratch the previous comparison; Jarrod's boat turned all the way upside down and dove to the bottom of the ocean floor.

"J-Jordan's Angela?" He croaked. What on earth...? When did Nick and Angela start spending any time together? How had they managed to spend any time together without anyone noticing? Or at least none of the Barkley's noticing; plainly Silas was aware of the relationship.

"We have a limited number of 'Angelas' on the ranch, Jarrod." Nick pointed out gently.

"How..? When did you start spending time with Angela?"

"After Doc Marten was murdered. I was falling apart and telling her how he had been helping me figure things out, helping learn how to do things differently. I felt like I didn't have enough strength to keep going, so, she gave me hers. That's when I realized, she was the more amazing than woman I had ever met, ever courted, ever danced with. That all those other girls were like ...a star next to the sun. That I could tell her anything and she wouldn't turn away, wouldn't be disgusted or ...that she loved me. Me, not Nick Barkley. Nick Barkley was just a name to her."

Jarrod's head was absolutely whirling. He literally felt dizzy and could feel himself clutching to the desk for balance. This was too much at one time. Nick had fallen in love with a freed slave, courted her, decided to marry her, leave the ranch and move to Canada? And he had presented this to Jarrod in less than two minutes?

"Nick, you can't just up and leave!" Jarrod protested.

"Yes Jarrod, I can." Nick was still speaking in that maddeningly gentle voice. "The ranch doesn't need me; Heath can run it for the family. And Heath is better at the mining business than I'll ever be."

Heath looked flushed with pleasure at the statement.

"So, you're going to pack up and leave? Head off to Canada, just like that?"

"I have to." Nick said quietly. "Jarrod, I can't stay here and marry Angela. I can't find anyone in Stockton, or in this valley, I can't find anyone in this state that will marry us and you know it. We can't get married and stay in this country. The civil war is too close. There's some hands on the ranch who would be up in arms if we got married, not that it's anyone else's business."

"And you think highing off to Canada is the answer to everything?"

"No. But Toronto has a large population of freedmen; it's a much more...tolerant place. It will give us a chance to be together."

Jarrod closed his eyes for a moment. "It's not going to work out." He said flatly. "Not because you don't love her or she doesn't love you. It's not going to work because everywhere you go there are going to be people and some of those people are going to be bigots. They're not only going to object to your marriage, they're going to be offended by it. They're going to do everything they can to break you up."

Nick nodded slowly. "They probably will. But I'm not giving up Angela and Jordan. I won't do it. It's not up for discussion Jarrod." He added gently as Jarrod started to object again.

Jarrod stewed silently for a moment. "Then why are even bothering to tell me? Why not just announce it at the business meeting next week?"

Nick smiled slightly. "Voting block, remember?"

bvbvvbvb 

"Mr Barkley?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Mr Barkley?" 

"Oh yes, go ahead." 

"**Mr Barkley!" **His secretary's obvious annoyance finally pierced Jarrod's distracted mind. 

"Yes, Christine?" 

"You wanted me to tell you when the Riley papers arrived." 

"Oh yes, thank you. Just put them on my desk please." Jarrod gestured vaguely at a corner of the desktop, completely uninterested in the court decision that had seemed so important yesterday. He needed to focus on his current cases but Nick, with his announcement yesterday had thrown Jarrod's concentration out of whack. 

Jarrod drummed the desk with his fingers. Nick was in love with Angela. Wonderful. Just wonderful. An entire valley, no, an entire STATE full of women to fall in love with and he had to pick the single person who would never, ever be acceptable to anyone else, Jarrod didn't care where Nick went. The pair could go to the moon and there would probably be someone to offend parked there. The only place the couple would be accepted, he thought, is the ranch. And that was if they never left the house to interact with the wranglers, many of whom were from the south. 

_It would be so much easier,_ he thought, _if I could hate her._

Unfortunately, he couldn't. She was intelligent, gentle, kind, beautiful…everything one could want in a wife except she was a negro. Jarrod scowled. He had no objection to her race; if Victoria and Tom had allowed him cling to prejudices, which they hadn't, having command in a unit of ex-slaves would have knocked it out of him. His soldiers were brave, disciplined and subjected to every form of abuse imaginable. He had watched his unit spend 20 hours straight putting out flames in a damaged Kansas town, only to have his troopers spit on by the townsfolk as they marched away. 

Incidents like this had left him with the weary certainty that people would always find a reason to despise the freedmen. He didn't want this life for his brother; but this is what Nick faced if he married Angela. Jarrod sighed. He was also bothered by Nick's certainty that he would get no real support from his family.

"The voting block." Nick had said. He had carefully planned who and how to break this news to. He had already taken steps towards the move to Canada; Jarrod had discovered this when he went to the bank this morning that Nick had been working on the land acquisition for awhile. Plainly Nick was prepared for the family to react badly. Jarrod would have been angry were it not for the fact that the rift between Nick and family had only recently started healing. What really upset him right now was the feeling that he had finally reached point of trust with Nick again, only to have his brother leave.

Jarrod hated the idea he would never be able to show Nick that he would support him no matter what; that he was afraid and angry because he was frightened for his sibling and not because he objected to his choice of wife. He wanted Nick to be happy. He wanted Nick's wife and children to be happy and healthy and all the things Nick ached for but it was never going to happen; not anywhere. Jarrod wished he could explain that.

Glumly Jarrod realized his reaction yesterday might keep anything he said from seeming sincere; how to remedy that he had no idea. Jarrod started to twist his ring, another nervous habit he generally suppressed; never give the opposing attorney an edge. He had spent hours in law school sitting in one spot refusing to move a muscle and telling himself over and over "Don't twist the ring. Don't twist the ring." And now look at him; he'd gone right back to fussing with the ring. The ring.

_The Ring__  
_

Jarrod opened his desk drawer and sorted through the pencils, erasers and other debris of an attorney before he found the box. He opened it and studied it carefully. It was the ring he had given Beth. He had kept it after her death; they had never even had a photo taken together and he wanted something of their brief, doomed marriage. If he'd had the time, he would have commissioned one especially for her. Since the marriage had been so hasty, he'd bought one from a jewelry store. He'd thought it was beautiful, though. It wasn't the flashiest ring or the largest diamond, but It had a quiet grace and elegance that fit Beth so perfectly that he'd had to have it.

He ran his fingers over it, remembering all the hope it had carried, all the joy it had promised. He had wondered once if he would ever give it to someone else, before silently pledging he wouldn't place it on another woman's finger. If he ever felt that way about someone again, then both Beth and the unknown girl deserved better. It didn't have to go unused though. He doubted Nick had bought a ring for Angela yet; this would be Jarrod's gift to them both. He hoped it would say everything he couldn't.

"Christine, I'm leaving early today." 


	29. Chapter 29

Some news, Nick felt, needed to be celebrated and this certainly fell in that category. So he waited until almost all of his hands were a good two hundred acres away working on the herd, asked Heath to cover for him, and returned to the house to pack up a basket and take Jordan and Angela to his favorite spot under the old tree in the meadow near the house.

Had he known it was his Mother's favorite spot as well, he would have been distinctly amused and possibly concerned that she might head over in that direction, but he likely would still go to that spot. It had a sort of poetic charm, with the stone fence bordering three sides and the tree that provided the perfect amount of shade.

He carried Jordon on Cocoa and Angela rode Easy with growing confidence, proof that the lessons were paying off. It wasn't until he hung his gun in the tree branches and laid the blanket on the ground that he broke the news.

"I found it."

"Foun' wha?"

"Where we can go." He felt like grinning until his face split.

Angela was stunned by the news. "They's ah place we can go?"

"Yep, Ontorio, Canada. It's home to numerous communities of ex-slaves. Negro's have the right to vote, own property, run for office. It's not perfect, I won't promise it's perfect; but it's a lot better than anything we'll find here."

Jordan toddled away with her newly learned and adored skill of walking.

"Vote?" It seemed such a foreign concept.

"Every woman can vote for school trustees. There are whole communities made up from runaway slaves. Here…." Nick took a stick and started sketching in the ground. "I've already bought some land…it's right here." A jab into a grass mound. "That'll be the ranch. It's close to three good sized communities.." the stick came dangerously close to lopping off the fluffy heads of dandelions. "We'll have our own water source for our herd-"

"Cow" Jordan said.

"That's right sweetie. Only not just one cow; we're going to have whole herd of them. And the trick is this part of town right here." He stabbed the ground with a stick. "The railroad line ends right here. We can ship part of the herd to market straight from here. And since I bought all this land around it, we can rent it to any other herds coming to market. They'll pay top dollar to be able to let their cattle graze for a few weeks before loading them up."

"Cow."

"Yep. And the other part is a matter of year round cash income. There is a large population of jewish immigrants in this area."

"How duz tha' help?" Angela asked, peering at his crude map.

"Jewish diet has strict requirements. Meat has to be prepared a certain way; it's called kosher. I can set up my own meat company and hire some of the immigrants to make certain it meets requirements to considered kosher for their diet. This would be the year round market for our cattle. I'm not saying it won't take a few years to build it up_"

"Cow!" Jordan said loudly, and Angela looked over her shoulder at her daughter and screamed.

The Brahma bull stood less than 20 feet away from the little girl, head lowered and muscles tensed. It had bloody gashes on its neck and chest from where it had broken through the fence, and to Nick's utter horror, it broke into a charge heading straight for the toddler.

"JORDAN!" He screamed, going from a cross-legged sit into a dead run in a staggering step. The little girl was clutching a handful of dandelions as she stood frozen at the approaching bull She released the flowers and turned her face to Nick.

"Papa." She whispered.

Then the sharp hooves sliced through the dirt where she had been standing a tenth of a second after Nick hurled himself over the girl, catching and cradling the petite form to avoid harming her. He felt a horn slice into his leg and miraculously landed on his feet, running towards the panicked ponies. He saw with relief that Angela had seized the reins of Easy and was already in the saddle, arms outstretched to catch the girl that Nick practically threw in her grasp. He felt the earth shudder beneath his feet and he slapped the horse on the flank, startling it into a run before rolling to the side again, the bull just missing the frightened pony and the man afoot.

Furious, the bull charged again, striking Cocoa in the shoulder and bowling him over. The horse scrambled to his feet with a squeal of pain and galloped towards the ranch and the brahma turned his eyes on the pony carrying Angela and Jordan.

Nick moved away from the big oak to pull the bull's attention to him, aware for the first time of the bloody gash on his thigh. He pulled his vest off and waived it, but saw the bull swing his eye to the bigger target.

Damn. Nick picked up a good-sized rock and hurled it at the animals' face and felt both better and worse when his missile landed sorely on the tender nose. The bull gave a startled bellow and turned his attention back Nick.

"Hey Toro! Viva! Viva! Come and get me, you stupid bag of bones."

The Brahma charged toward his tormentor and Nick rolled out of reach and reached into the tree branches for the gun, moving fast, too fast and slammed his hand against a tree branch. Numbness shot through the damaged nerves as he pulled the pistol clumsily from the holster and he swore as the muscles in his finger spasmed.

The bull was deadly close and Nick threw himself to the ground again, trying to stumble to his feet while he adjusted to the awkward new firing stance his stubborn fingers didn't want to use. He finally cocked the gun and tried to slide his middle finger through the trigger guard only to have the muscles spasm again and the gun tumble out of his hand. There was a moment of thought:

"Now I'm helpless."

Before he saw the bull spinning, turning to charge the terrified riders who had almost reached the fence.

They had a chance. If the horse didn't balk, if they didn't slip off the pony, if the stones didn't give way under their feet, they could just make it over the wall and out of reach of the bull. It would be slim but they had a chance, and Nick was under no illusions about how he'd come out against the bull.

If he jumped right now he could pull himself into the tree and stay there until help came. If things worked out perfectly, everyone would be fine; Angela and Jordan would get away and bring help quickly and he would come out of this with nothing more than a sore hand. If he stayed put the powerful beast could cut him down in seconds.

It was a remarkably easy choice and he hurled himself at the bull, his left hand fumbling to grasp the tender nostrils and force the animal's attention away from the running pony.

He yanked the ring in the bulls' nose and it gave a bellow of pain, turning on him and savagely digging horns into his gut before hurling him through the air. Nick landed awkwardly and felt a snapping sensation in his leg before the furious animal attacked again, grinding him into the earth. The cowboy wheezed as the air was squeezed out of his chest, feeling ribs break and his collarbone crunch under the assault. The bull backed up again and charged, the horns sliding, cutting and flipping him around into the air before he fell bonelessly to the ground.

Idly, Nick wondered why he wasn't shrieking in pain before deciding it was because the pain wasn't all that bad. It hurt but it didn't hurt as much as the time he'd broken his arm; a true... He groped for a Jarrod type word...conundrum. There was another furious snort from the bull and Nick could see it lowering its head for another charge. This one, he supposed would kill him and he watched it stampede toward him, deadly horns pointed at his throat.

Then, uncomprehendingly he heard what sounded like a crack of thunder and saw it stumble and crash to the earth, it's left eye vanished in a splash of gore. Foggily he wondered what had happened, then saw a rifle drop to the ground in front of him and felt familiar arms wrap around him.

"Nick? Come on, little brother talk to me."

Nick smiled. Pappy to the rescue; just like always.


	30. Chapter 30

Jarrod placed his coat over the open wounds in the stomach, appalled at the damage. Blood seeped through the cloth and Jarrod started calculating time: 10 minutes for Angela to get to the ranch and send help, then someone would have to get the Doctor. He sought ways to shave precious seconds. ..._ If_ someone had heard the shots and was already on the way. _If_ Agatha was on her way here... Of course, it was always possible she might be out visiting a patient. Jarrod shuddered and pushed the thought away. No, it was evening. The Doctor might be coming here for dinner and he desperately tried to remember if she was supposed to. Jarrod searched relentlessly for shortcuts, not even aware that he was issuing a steady stream of words intended to be reassuring.

"You'll be fine, little brother. Everything will be fine. The Doc will get here, we'll get you patched up and the next thing you know you'll be in bed with Mother hovering over you and Audra waiting on you hand and foot."

He heard a whispered name and instantly understood.

"I saw Angela and Jordan galloping for the ranch. They're in better shape than you are, but you'll be all right. You'll spend a week or so in bed and then we'll make plans for the move to Canada."

Nick's eyes lit up and Jarrod kept rambling.

"That's what I was coming to tell you, little brother. I'll take care of everything. It's my wedding gift. We'll …. We'll hate losing a good foreman but I know you'll be happy there. You and Jordan and Angela. You just have to promise to write."

Blackish blood was seeping from the coat…_the liver…there's a puncture to the liver_. Jarrod remembered his army days and shivered.

_Where in God's name was help?_

**BVBVBVBV**

Nick was trying very hard not to laugh. For one thing, it would probably hurt like hell. Second, and most important, it would upset Jarrod. Propriety was very important to Pappy, and Nick suspected that snickering at his brother's panicky effort to project reassurance would hurt his feelings. Pappy DID look funny, though; with his fancy coat off, his shirt spotted as if he'd flailed around in scarlet paint and his perfectly combed hair mussed up and falling over his forehead.

_Good old Pappy_ Nick thought. He had spent his entire childhood rescuing Nick from one scrape or another, managed to get him through puberty alive and even now as an adult, Jarrod was still there, like some exasperated, overworked guardian angel... And like that, he understood what Doc Marten had been saying. It became shiningly, radiantly clear and Nick could only wonder, dumbfounded, at how complicated he had made everything. It was so obvious, so unbelievably easy that he started to laugh.

And it didn't even hurt.

**BVBVBVBV**

Jarrod pressed down harder on the gaping hole in the torn stomach and wondered if he wasn't simply inflicting even more pain on the injury-racked body. He cringed slightly as Nick uttered a wheezing, whistling sound, then realized it wasn't a gasp of pain but a cough of laughter.

Nick grasped his collar and pulled Jarrod close.

"Anjl….M' gard'n anjll" he chuffed, each word sending out a small spray of blood "M' Whol' lyf.."

His brother stared blankly at him, and Nick wished he could explain, could make Jarrod understand. But he couldn't; couldn't talk anymore, couldn't hear, couldn't even see anything other than his brothers' eyes of cerulean blue. They were so intense, so bright, that the color blurred and spread until it was all that he could see...

**BVBVBVBV**

The two men sat silently in an open field. The younger, still warm but unmoving, and the elder clutching the lifeless body closely as if to offer-or accept- comfort from the chill of approaching night. In the distance Jarrod could hear staccato sound of approaching horses and he wearily wished them gone. When the riders arrived this final time alone with his brother would be banished and anguish would take its place.

It would fall to him to shatter his family, to break his mothers' heart and rend his siblings with grief and pain; to destroy the dreams and happiness of the woman his brother had loved. The encroaching hoof beats warned of all the pain that awaited and more.

So, Jarrod clung to these last peaceful moments and wept, an endless shower of grief that was oddly comforting though he could not have said why. And only in some distant, wondering corner of his heart did he marvel at the acid tears that seared his cheeks and scarred his sight yet fell to his tongue cool and sweet and tasting of rain.


End file.
